


Cake Crumbs.

by MamaCake



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: War for Cybertron
Genre: Bondage, Conjunx Endura, Developing Relationship, Dom/sub, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Drabble, Drabble Collection, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Human AU, Humanformers, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Marriage, Married Life, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mech Preg (Transformers), Mpreg, Oral Sex, Other, Praise Kink, Pregnancy, Prompt Fic, Rough Sex, Sexual Content, Sexual Interfacing, Short & Sweet, Siege Spoilers, Spoilers, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Unplanned Pregnancy, heat - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:28:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 25,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21651163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MamaCake/pseuds/MamaCake
Summary: Thanks to Tibra17 for posting this prompt on the Dratchet Discord, I couldn't leave it alone so I hope it's okay!
Relationships: Brainstorm/Perceptor (Transformers), Drift | Deadlock/Ratchet, Drift | Deadlock/Rodimus, First Aid/Whirl (Transformers), Prowl/Sideswipe (Transformers), Shockwave/Soundwave
Comments: 53
Kudos: 214





	1. Drift/Ratchet

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Tibra17 for posting this prompt on the Dratchet Discord, I couldn't leave it alone so I hope it's okay!

_ Prompt: Deadlock being careful, or not, taking off Ratchet's shirt because he's extremely ticklish.  _

_ "Primus!" _

With a hiss Ratchet snapped his head around and narrowed his eyes at where Deadlock was behind him. He dropped Ratchet's shirt from his hands quickly and in return, clicked his tongue and rolled his own eyes as if to point out that the medic was being dramatic. 

"It's not  _ that _ bad. I grazed you, at best." 

"You had to make it look  _ real _ right?" 

Gritting his teeth, Ratchet turned his head back around, gingerly lifting the edges of his shirt and feeling where a bullet had skimmed him, leaving an angry streak across his ribs. Of course Deadlock had to shoot him, otherwise Turmoil would have had questioned why exactly he'd had a group of Autobots in his sights and not fired. Luckily, the intentional bad shot had meant that they could retreat, and as stubborn as he was, Ratchet wasn't going to take on the entirety of Turmoil's group with merely Bumblebee and Wheeljack as backup. 

Now, hiding out in the old abandoned cottage that their trysts always happened in, situated just a little way outside of the Autobot current camp and a ways away from Turmoil's base, Ratchet could let his guard down, as he usually did.

"...that's not what I was cursing you for anyway." 

In reply, Deadlock grunted, his attention turned to the window now. His heavy boots echoed as he paced across the dusty floor to lean against the side of the window, his eyes scanning the horizon. He wasn't the best conversationalist these days apparently, and sometimes Ratchet wondered what he saw in the soldier who had killed more than he had ever even treated, but when he met his gaze, he saw the young scared man who he once knew, the one he knew had better in him, he just needed the right persuasion. 

"Right, I remember now you're not a man of many words." 

Pulling down his medic armband so he could unbutton his shirt, Ratchet sighed and opened up his bag to find something to clean the wound with. 

"What then?"

It took Ratchet a moment to reply as he rustled through where he had dumped his bag down onto the rotten old kitchen table, brow furrowed. He was sure he'd restocked his antiseptic wipes, he'd even settle for some clean water and gauze but frustratingly no matter how much he pulled out, he couldn't find anything.

" _ Fuck sake _ ," he muttered, "it tickled." 

"It  _ tickled _ ?" 

"Yes Drift! You tickled me." 

Deadlock didn't move. A small grin crept onto his face and eventually he pushed himself away from the window to stalk towards Ratchet. He liked that he used his old name, his  _ real _ name.

"Oh." 

Still busy putting things back into his bag, Ratchet startled hard as Deadlock slid his hands onto his waist. 

" _ Drift! _ "

"I just love hearing you say it." 

As he moved to close the gap, pinning Ratchet against the table and nuzzling against his ear, Deadlock tickled his side just slightly. This time Ratchet shuddered with a laugh. 

"Shit, shouldn't have told you."

"Nope." Deadlock crept his hands lower onto Ratchet's hips, "ticklish anywhere else…?" 

Apparently his annoyance at being shot at was forgotten and instead Ratchet's expression pulled into a grin. He placed his hands onto the top of Deadlock's and tilted his neck, just as a little invitation. 

"Now  _ that _ I'm not telling, you'll have to find out for yourself." 


	2. Drift/Rodimus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Drift helps Rodimus dry off after a shower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to give credit to this awesome site where I've taken the prompts from 😊
> 
> https://prompts.neocities.org/

Maybe it should have ended in mischief like it usually did with the two of them, but this time there was something different. Drift had awoken just as he heard Rodimus' private washrack shut off and smiled to himself when he heard the mech curse about forgetting a towel again. With a small stretch, Drift pushed himself up and out of the berth, finding a towel and waited with it outstretched just outside the door.

When Rodimus opened the door his expression softened from mild annoyance to a sweet smile, his optics dimming just a little, and his field mirrored the change. As he went to take the towel from Drift, the white mech pulled it back away with a grin and held it up with a little flutter. 

"Nuh-uh, come here." 

Lifting an optic ridge as he laughed, Rodimus relented and stepped forward. Drift wrapped the plush microfibre around him and he couldn't help but shutter his optics with a happy sigh as he was scooped up. He carried Rodimus back out into the berth room, perching him down onto the edge of the berth so he could gently wipe away the droplets that had formed on his polished paint.

Taking a seat behind him, Drift started with the back of Rodimus' helm, then down to his neck cables, making him laugh and hunch his shoulders. With a smile, Drift gently buffed away the remnants of the solvent on his back and shoulders with great care and attention whilst Rodimus relaxed, letting out several huffs and sighs. When Drift was done there he slipped off the berth and pushed Rodimus back onto the berth gently. The flame coloured mech settled himself back, propping his arms up under his helm but keeping one optic just about online, Drift was no stranger to causing trouble whilst Rodimus was unawares and unsuspecting. 

The plush towel was swiped slowly over Rodimus' chest and down his midsection, only briefly stopping over his interface panel before Drift took each of his legs in turn to dry them. Even though he was still a little wary, Rodimus found himself eventually offlining his optic and giving himself fully to enjoy the touches, every so often letting out a soft groan under his vents. 

He was only vaguely aware that the touches had stopped when he felt Drift move beside him onto the berth again and he dimly onlined his gaze with a grin. 

"Not usually what happens after a shower." 

As he stretched his arms up, Rodimus caught the strange expression on Drift's face from where he was laying on his side beside him and his grin fell. 

"Drift? You okay? You're looking weirder than usual." 

Drift merely kept his optics locked onto Rodimus', biting his lip until he suddenly leaned in to press their lips together. Without hesitation, Rodimus kissed him back, murmuring softly and catching the back of Drift's helm in his hands. When Drift pulled away, he was venting hard and there was a wild look of panic in his optics. Reaching out to touch his chest to try and calm him, Rodimus spoke lowly.

"Drift, what is with you?" 

"I'm… I love you." He blinked rapidly, "I love you so much and I'm… I'm sparked." 

Rodimus merely stayed as he was then broke into a huge grin, shaking his head at where Drift was still leaning over him.

"...I knew you couldn't be nice to me for too long, that's a scrap prank and you know it." 

As he tried to push the mech away, Drift caught his hand and gave Rodimus no choice but to stay where he was. The longer Rodimus looked back into Drift's optics, the more he felt uncertain about it being a joke. 

"It's… not a joke?" 

"It's not a joke." 

"You're… sparked?" 

"I'm sparked."

"With my… my…?" 

Rodimus couldn't finish his sentence, a whole mountain of emotions crashing down onto him. He squeezed Drift's hand and had to vent hard to stop himself over heating for a moment but then he was laughing and crying and throwing himself at his conjunx, burying his face against his neck. 

"Yes Roddy with your sparkling, that's how it works right?" 

Drift was crying and laughing too, the relief meaning he could finally let his field loose and Rodimus felt the tiniest little nudge of  _ happy _ that wasn't coming from the white mech. Feeling that emotion coming from his sparkling made him cry even harder. 

When they'd finally wiped away each others tears, they huddled up comfortably on the berth, Rodimus with his helm resting on Drift's chest whilst they both cradled a hand against his midsection. 

"...so, we've got to think of a real  _ awesome _ name right? Oh! What if they have my outlier ability! And they can see the future like you?" 

"That was like one time, Roddy."

"Oh man, I just, I can't wait!" He wriggled down a little to speak to the newspark, "hi you! Hi! You're gonna be the most loved little thing ever!" 

In reply, there was another small brush of  _ happy _ , and Drift laughed as he closed his optics.

"They like you already." 

"Pfft, who doesn't?" 

Rodimus looked back at where his conjunx was resting, a soft smile upon his face and he decided that he looked the most relaxed he had in a long time. He couldn't help but place a tender kiss against Drift's midsection then move back up the berth to kiss his forehelm. 

"I love you." 

"I love you too, Roddy," Drift yawned, "m'sleepy now." 

"Then you sleep, I'll look after you both,  _ I promise _ ." 

As he fell into recharge, Drift couldn't help but smile and nuzzle against Rodimus, he could do anything as long as his conjunx was by his side. 


	3. Ratchet/Deadlock NFSW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'll keep it short and sweet, Ratchet wants to spike Deadlock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one wasn't a prompt, it was more inspired by the wonderful discussions that happen on the Dratchet Discord server 😊 obviously this one is explicit so heads up 👌

It was a short journey, but every step of the way Ratchet was on high alert, looking over his shoulder. Every noise set him on edge and he stopped once when he thought he heard the roar of jet engines ahead. He'd been told that this path was safe but he wasn't so sure. Regardless he pressed on. 

When he came to the abandoned warehouse, he slipped into the side entrance and waited. 

The glint of yellow optics through the gloom gave him away and as usual, Ratchet straightened to his full height and fixed the other mech with his gaze. 

"You're late." 

Came the low drawl but it didn't unnerve the medic in the slightest. He merely let out a soft laugh and took a few steps further in, flicking his gaze around the building. Part of the roof had collapsed near the back after it had been subjected to a seeker attack and Ratchet had only stumbled upon it by chance, knowing that once upon a time that there was a good cache of medical supplies. It was way too late for him to do anything when there was a gun thrust uncomfortably into the middle of his shoulder and he had sighed, resigned to his fate. The voice that had reached out back then was quieter, less rough and he knew it as soon as it said his name. 

"Ratchet?" 

He was pulled back to the present when he realised he hadn't answered. 

"It's getting harder to get out alone and someone notices if I'm gone." 

"Of course they do." 

It was said with a slight sneer but Ratchet knew it was only concealing the pain that no one wondered where Deadlock was. 

_ Drift._ He corrected in his processor, he never did care for the name the Decepticons had given him. It was still the same mech underneath, the same scared, trauma stricken mech. 

As Deadlock came forward, Ratchet corrected himself again. His frame was certainly _ a lot _ different. 

The speedster caught him admiring his bulk but he didn't let any expression cross his face, instead circling slowly around Ratchet and casting him appreciative glances. He liked that the medic hadn't changed much; the red and white paintwork that spelt safety and comfort, the broadness and strength that could be used for harm but was only ever use to heal and then there was his optics, deep blue and alight with compassion. 

Subconsciously, Deadlock clenched his fists. If only he could be so steadfast but the old him was a junkie and the present him was a murderer so what did that spell for the future him? 

"I know you never talk much but you could have said more than a few words before you started to look at me like I was a cube of energon and you haven't fuelled in a week." 

Ratchet wondered briefly if that was partly true but the thought vanished as Deadlock brushed a hip against his hand, sending tingles all the way up his arm and making his vents hitch just the tiniest bit. 

Now they were close, Deadlock grinned. He leaned in close and nipped at Ratchet's collar plating, wanting to draw some reaction from him but apparently it was going to take much more than that for the steadfast mech to waiver in his resolve.

"I thought you liked _ ravenous_." 

"Mm, only when I'm sure you won't eat me alive," Ratchet countered, "besides, I thought we could try something else…" 

So gently, Ratchet moved his hand to brush it lightly over the underneath of Deadlock's interface panel. The mech froze and his optics went wide as he grabbed Ratchet's wrist a lot rougher than he intended to and this time he did manage to elicit a response, just a rumble of discomfort. 

"No." 

"Have you ever even-" 

"I said _ no._" 

The snarl intended to make Ratchet back off but instead he found himself grinning just a little. The big tough act never did scare him.

"No you've never been spiked or no you won't let me?" 

"It's… degrading," yellow optics flicked away then back, "on your back and exposed like some-some coward!" 

"Or maybe it shows trust."

With a slight raise of his optic ridge Ratchet tugged his arm and Deadlock suddenly remembered what he was doing and let go. 

Without another word, Ratchet went over to the corner where there was a clear space and lay down subserviently on his back, waiting for Deadlock to take him as he usually did, with fervour and fury. 

As the white mech went to step forward, something stopped him. 

_ Trust_. Trust was earnt, trust was given. Ratchet had definitely earnt it. 

"Not on my back." 

Deadlock had knelt beside Ratchet, unable to meet his optics. Reaching out with a red hand, Ratchet took the other's and managed a little smile. 

"We don't have to, I just… I shouldn't have pushed you and if you're not comfortable, that's fine." 

In answer, he leaned over to kiss Ratchet deeply then pulled away with a small grin. 

"I don't back down from a challenge, although I doubt it'll be such a thing." 

"Oh. We'll see." 

Settling himself on his hands and knees, they never did have much time for niceties or foreplay, he dropped his helm and opened his panel. He hated to admit it but he was nervous but that was totally overthrown by the excitement leaping up inside of him. 

So very gently, Ratchet took a hip into his hand and opened his own panel. 

"Megatron is the safe word, okay?" 

Deadlock barked a laugh, "stick to your day job, comedy doesn't suit you." 

As he rolled his optics, Ratchet brushed his spike against Deadlock's valve. His vents hitched at the sight, something he'd wanted for so long but he knew the trust had to be there first. 

Gently, he eased himself in. At first Deadlock was braced, maybe just a little too much but as soon as he felt some of Ratchet's spike, his valve cycled down onto him, wanting to draw in more and more of him. He wasn't going to give Ratchet the satisfaction of hearing him moan, at least not yet. 

"Mm, you haven't changed my mind yet." 

"I will, don't you worry your pretty little finials." 

Deadlock growled and glanced back behind at Ratchet who was grinning. _ Slagger _. 

As Ratchet eased more of his spike in, Deadlock found himself relaxing and even enjoying it, offlining his optics and letting out a soft sigh. His frame was starting to warm from the pleasure and he was sure that there couldn't be much more to give, it was feeling just a little snug in his valve.

"We don't have all day," he snapped, finally impatient, "just move already." 

"Move? So you don't want all of it?" 

Deadlocks optics flashed in surprise. 

"...that's not all?" 

With a soft chuckle, Ratchet ran a hand lightly down Deadlock's back, causing him to arch and shift on his spike. He had to bite his glossa hard so he didn't make any noise. 

"I don't want to hurt you if it's been a long time." 

"I'm fine, just do it." 

Ratchet raised his optic ridges at Deadlock's back. The mech was definitely relaxing into it but his mouth was still running far too much, Ratchet had to change that. 

Still going slowly so as to not hurt him, Ratchet offlined his optics at how good Deadlock felt around him. His valve squeezed and clenched every time he moved and it was so amazing he knew it wouldn't take much for him to overload. 

When their hips were finally totally flush, Ratchet was sure he heard just the softest moan under Deadlock's vents. He knew it was better not to comment. 

"You okay?" 

All Deadlock could do was nod as he continued to bite his glossa. 

As Ratchet drew out and thrust himself back in for the first time, Deadlock knew he wasn't going to be able to hold back. He felt full and stretched and his whole frame _ tingled_. It was the best pleasure he'd ever experienced and it wasn't as though he didn't thoroughly enjoy spiking Ratchet. 

After a few more thrusts, Deadlock finally relinquished his glossa and offlined his optics. Ratchet grinned, he finally had him where he wanted him but what he wasn't expecting was Deadlock to grind himself back against him, eager for more. Knowing if he spoke he'd ruin the magic, he kept quiet and gently grasped both of Deadlock's hips to bury his spike deeper. 

That was it. Deadlock moaned loudly. Ratchet moaned too. 

Even though their secret trysts were usually frantic with passion and urgency, this time there was none of that. There was the need to be touched and trusted and enjoyed in every way and that made it even sweeter. 

Deadlock arched himself and threw his helm back to moan heavily as an overload ripped through him, his valve calipers desperately squeezing every part of Ratchet's thick spike. It was hard for the medic to carry on and not give into his own overload that was creeping up on him but he wanted to absolutely make sure they could do this again so he needed to make it more than worthwhile.

As Deadlock twitched on his spike as his charge ebbed away, Ratchet continued his deep thrusts and then reached around to rub his node. 

The sound that came from Deadlock was a yelp that petered off into a static filled moan. His frame crackled as his charge grew again quickly and his vents were heaving hot huffs of air to cool him. 

Apparently Ratchet was in a devilish mood and he was determined to finish Deadlock off. 

"Oh _ Drift_…" 

Deadlock slammed himself back and looked back over his shoulder, watching Ratchet lose himself in the pleasure. It was more than enough. 

He overloaded so hard he was trembling and mewling uncontrollably whilst Ratchet pressed their hips together flush as he too overloaded. Deadlock's valve squeezed every last drop of transfluid from him as he moan and gasped, pleasure zipping through his whole frame. 

When they were both totally spent, Ratchet slipped an arm around Deadlock's midsection to hold him up and he felt just how badly he was trembling. Before he could lapse into his protective medic side, Deadlock spoke, with that old Rodion twang he tried to hide these days. 

"M'done, so… done." 

With a soft chuckle, Ratchet tried to pull away but that only made Deadlock jerk and moan. 

"Leave me here to die, s'fine." 

"And that would make me a bad medic." 

"Don't care. Just…" 

Running his other hand lightly over Deadlock's back once again, Ratchet gave him a few moments to recover. Lost in his thoughts as his lover recuperated, Ratchet was stirred from them when he felt the other mech just gently place his hand over his own briefly then move it away. He nodded as if to say he was okay now. 

They untangled themselves and Deadlock quickly got himself to his feet, Ratchet flopping back to sit as he rummaged through his subspace to find some clean clothes. He handed one over to Deadlock then stifled a laugh as the mech raised an optic ridge at him, bringing out at least a couple more. 

"More like it…" 

The Rodion twang was gone and the walls were back up. Ratchet had seen him vulnerable enough for one day. 

As he cleaned himself up, Ratchet gestured him over to where he was sat. Warily Deadlock eyed him. 

"You have red paint all over your aft, what you going to say, an Autobot bested you and pinned you down?" 

With a growl, Deadlock turned and tried not to concentrate on the soft touches from Ratchet, instead focusing his gaze up on the broken ceiling. When he was done, Ratchet reluctantly pulled away with a sigh and Deadlock knew what he was going to say. 

"Don't. You try it every time." 

"Because I want you to know the offer is there." 

"Not for me it isn't." 

"Drift-" 

"_Deadlock."_

"But you're not are you? You're the same kid that I treated-"

"Don't." It was a warning laced with emotion, "just don't." 

At the softness in the last word, Ratchet relented. He knew that any time they met up it could be the final one and so he always gave the chance to come back with him. 

They both knew that Deadlock wouldn't. 

"...till next time?" 

"Yes." 

Ratchet got himself up and took in Deadlock's back. The strength and bulk excited him but it was the mech inside he felt for the most. 

He turned to leave out of the door that he'd come from when there was a thud as something was dropped to the floor. Ratchet frowned at the red bag with the white insignia on and then brought his gaze back to Deadlock's back. 

"Medical supplies." 

"I found them, when we first… I intended to take them back but I couldn't, I've been carrying them around... They're yours." 

"Keep them, in case you need them." 

"I don't need them. I know where to find a medic." 

Deadlock started off towards the door he'd clambered through when Ratchet spoke again. 

"What am I gonna say? A Decepticon gave them to me?" 

"...maybe just a friend." 

Before Ratchet could retort, the mech was gone. With a soft laugh, he went over to pick up the medical supplies and glanced at where Deadlock had retreated to. 

"Till next time, kid." 

As the medic left the building, Deadlock jumped down from where he'd perched to watch him go. 

This time as Ratchet made his way back to base, he found himself a little less on edge and he wasn't sure if it was because he was less tense from the interfacing or because he knew that he had an extra pair of optics watching his back. He never looked behind because he knew if he did, he'd drag Drift back with him. 


	4. Drift/Ratchet: hotel prompt.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was a prompt from a list posted on the Dratchet server for the #Dratchetparty idea on Twitter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as an FYI for anyone who doesn't have Tumblr, I'm having a bit of a break from things as I have some stuff going on in my personal life so my main fic will probably not be uploaded for a little while, so I'm sorry about that 💙

Ratchet hadn't meant for it to end up this way, he'd swear that on his oath, but it had and it was all Rodimus' fault. 

He wasn't good at letting go and relaxing, everyone knew that, and so when Rodimus had invited him out to his birthday party, the medic had scoffed. Him at a party? No, no way. But then the redhead grinned at him and lifted an eyebrow in that mischevious way he was good at, the way that said he had a good hand and he was about to play it.

"No, Rodimus, I-"

"Drift will be there, _ obviously._" 

The older man sighed and palmed at his face. It was a good hand alright but was he really that obvious that even Rodimus had noticed? Bumblebee was right, he was going soft and he really needed to work on his poker face. 

Rodimus tilted his head a little more and fluttered his long, straw coloured lashes. He was leaning against Ratchet's desk, hands gripping the edge and if the Nyonian was known for something it was his stubbornness. Ratchet would have to give him something to make him go away. 

With a long sigh, he held up one finger, his brow twitching into a slight frown. 

"_One _ drink." 

He turned his attention back to his desk to try and hide the emotions he knew were swirling behind his eyes but Rodimus had surely already seen a glimmer. The lithe, young man pushed himself away from the desk and stretched his arms up above his head, still grinning in that irritating know it all way.

"Sure doc, _ sure._" 

Ratchet merely rolled his eyes as he sat back down into his chair. Rodimus left the medic's office with a snicker and it took all of his willpower not to throw something at him as he left. 

"One drink," he muttered to himself, "just… one."

* * *

Swerve's was as busy as always but even more so as apparently Rodimus had invited everyone he'd ever even smiled at. Ratchet entered the bar and tried not to feel self conscious when a few others turned and looked at him with a surprised expression. He wasn't sure that if it was the fact he was actually there that was surprising them or that for once he was wearing a shirt not splattered in blood. 

With a grumble, he pushed his way through the throng to take a barstool at the bar. If he could just show his face, have that one drink then he could placate Rodimus, he wouldn't even have to see Drift, it was fine, he could do this. 

"Ratchet!" 

The voice sent a shiver down his spine and he had to swallow hard before he made any kind of acknowledgement back. As he turned to greet the other man, he stopped. 

Drift was amazing. His hair was half tied back off his face and he smelt divine, a musky sweetness lingering that Ratchet could smell because the other man had put an arm affectionately around his back in greeting. He was dressed the most casual he'd ever seen him, tight jeans and a loose white t-shirt, his wrists adorned with several beaded bracelets and a necklace that was resting under his t-shirt and against his chest. For a moment, Ratchet felt overdressed, wishing he hadn't picked his best red shirt. 

Finally he found his voice and he disguised his feelings as always did, with a gruff off handedness.

"Must have had a few if you're that happy to see me." 

But Drift was in too much of a good mood and he wasn't going to be deterred by the medic's apparent need to push him firmly away with both hands. 

Ratchet turned his gaze back to the bar, watching where Swerve was talking rapidly to Blurr at the other end. No luck getting served any time soon. 

"Oh Ratty, don't be _ silly_, Rodimus was really glad you agreed to come." He paused a moment, "so was I." 

Drift must have felt him tense from where he still had his arm around him. He wondered exactly how his companion would interpret it but there wasn't even a moment to contemplate it before he was being urged to his feet. 

"We have a booth with a few bottles, come join us." 

Still a little struck by Drift's appearance all Ratchet could do was nod and follow. He managed to find his sensible side from somewhere even if he'd been a little blindsided.

"Just _ one _ drink though, Drift, I'm serious, I have some stock taking to do in the morning and-" 

Taking Ratchet's warm broad hand into his, Drift turned and put a finger up to his mouth, closing the gap between them and making the moment just a little intimate. His amber eyes sparkled with something Ratchet couldn't place and a small grin tugged at his features, making him look even more handsome. 

"Be _ shoosh_. No work talk, come on!" 

As Drift dragged him through the crowd of warm bodies and raucous chatter, Ratchet was finding it hard to think straight. He was sure that everyone around could hear the thud of his heart rattling his ribcage and feel the nervousness rippling off him in waves. 

For once Drift was being dominant and steadfast. He was giving Ratchet absolutely no choice in doing anything but either going along with him or downright refusing. This time there was no middle ground, there was no hesitance. Drift was leaping upon his chance and seizing it fiercely, and Ratchet wondered if maybe tonight he'd finally let the other man pounce. 

* * *

"Ratty! This way!" 

Drift was slurring and giggling and had been ever since they'd stumbled from Swerve's. Of course Drift had found a hotel, of course he'd paid for the best room and of course he was just a little bit worse for wear. 

Rodimus on the other hand? He was sleeping soundly in Ratchet's arms.

The medic huffed as he followed Drift to the elevator, sarcastically thinking that he was glad that so many years of carrying wounded had lead him to this moment of lumbering around a passed out birthday boy. He glanced down briefly at the redhead, his hair a total mess from where he'd spent all night running his hands through it as he drunkenly flirted with everyone any anyone and Ratchet softened a little. He was fond of him in his own way, even if he did manage to get under his skin.

Thinking back on the evening, he had to grin a little; he couldn't wait to see the look on Rodimus' face when he'd get to tell him he'd kissed Thunderclash, a full on moment of passion right in front of everyone on the dance floor. Ratchet had been a little distracted by that point, he'd finished his one drink but Drift had pinned him into the booth by gently laying a hand onto his thigh as he discussed the importance of correct sword care with Cyclonus. 

Ratchet could have shrugged it off but that act of affection had thrilled him so much it'd left his hands tingling as he placed one on top of Drift's. He'd bitten back a yelp as Drift gave his thigh a little squeeze. 

Ratchet definitely had not intended to end up in a hotel suite with both Rodimus and Drift though, and once he'd placed the passed out man onto the bed he turned to address Drift to tell him he'd leave them to it. The words lodged in his throat.

Drift was in the bathroom, the door wide open so Ratchet could see in. He was raking his fingers through his dark hair that he'd taken down whilst scrunching his face up in the mirror, his t-shirt already discarded onto the top of the door. He was oblivious to Ratchet's watchful gaze as his eyes roamed his lean, muscular frame. Obviously there were more than a few scars, some more recent and some more brutal, but Ratchet didn't care about the stripes of pink and silver across Drift's body, all he wanted to do was explore every inch, kiss away every ache and past pain.

With a shaky breath out to himself, Ratchet knew he had to make a decision. He could slip out now, sure that Drift wouldn't follow if he had his best friend to look after, or he could stay. What would happen after that he didn't know. 

It only took him a moment to decide and he crept for the door as quietly as he could manage, but Drift had spent so many years on high alert that nothing slipped by him. 

"You're going?" 

The words stung. They were accusing, loaded with hurt and disbelief. With a soft laugh, Ratchet shook his head, mostly at himself before looking back over his shoulder. It did look bad, he was right beside the door after all and Drift was leaning into the doorframe of the bathroom, a hunched form of pure emotion ready to spill out across the floor.

"No, of course not." 

"Don't lie to me, Ratchet," Drift's face was scrunched up once again, but this time his eyes were narrowed, "if you want to go, just go." 

"Kid…" 

"Don't _ kid _ me. I thought we'd had a good evening, I thought maybe for once you wouldn't shove me away as hard as you could, I thought… wrong." 

"Kid." 

Ratchet didn't even flinch at the look he was given. He was grinning just a little and just as Drift was about to cross the room, get into his face and hiss something hurtful, he noticed where Ratchet was pointing. He flicked his head around to see Ratchet's phone was on the bedside table, his shoes nearly lined up just beside the bed. He turned back to look at the older man and saw that his shirt was untucked, a few buttons loosened at the top and he dropped the hand he was about to use to strike the doorframe in a rage. 

"Oh_._" 

"I was checking the door was locked so sleeping beauty couldn't decide to wander off in the middle of the night. I guessed you'd want some help baby sitting."

"_Oh._" 

Ratchet pulled the chain across on the top of the door, even if Rodimus managed the key card, the rattle of the chain would wake one of them. As he turned to face Drift again, he shoved his hands into his jeans pocket and shrugged, not sure what to do next. Drift was still looking slightly bewildered in the entrance to the bathroom but at least his chest wasn't heaving with anger now. Ratchet decided he looked a little lost, almost like the man that had first stumbled into his life all those years ago.

"So?" 

"So?" 

"What you wanna do? You and me?" 

It was something Drift had only ever been able to dream of, Ratchet and him alone, _ almost_. He cast a look over to where Rodimus was sprawled in the middle of the bed and he made a mental note to thank his friend tomorrow. If it wasn't for him, Drift would have nothing, no one.

Stepping forward a little tentatively, Drift rubbed at the top of his arm where his tattoo started and then spread across his chest. Ratchet watched him, waiting patiently for an answer.

"You want to… sit and talk? I guess we have some catching up to do?" 

"I'd like that." 

With a small smile without meeting Ratchet's gaze, Drift pulled the blanket off the end of the bed, pausing briefly to brush a kiss over Rodimus' forehead. He stirred briefly, mumbling something in Nyonian and Drift laughed just a little. 

Ratchet had already taken a seat on the plush sofa, rubbing the back of his neck with both hands to ease some of the tension away. His muscles hadn't had a good workout in a while, not since the war had ended and he'd stopped having to sprint off the battlefield with an injured soldier in his arms. 

Drift came to sit beside him, not too close, and wrapped the blanket around both of their shoulders. 

"He's heavier than he looks." 

"I know, I'm just glad I had a _ big, strong _ medic to help me this time." 

Drift flashed him a playful grin and Ratchet had to turn his head away to hide the slight blush to his cheeks, running a hand through his greying hair with a soft laugh.

"Yeah, well, you know you can count on me." 

"Always." Drift swallowed hard, "...I'm sorry you couldn't always count on me." 

"Drift-" 

But as Ratchet turned his head back, he found Drift cupping his face in both of his hands and staring at him with a wild look in his eyes. They both stayed still for just a moment, taking in one another, before Drift leaned in, gently brushing his lips against Ratchet's. It was more than enough to urge Ratchet on and he leaned in, placing his hands over Drift's own and deepened their kiss, a soft moan slipping from him. 

"Drift! Drift I need to… need to… where'm I?" 

They both broke away, Drift laughing softly and Ratchet blushed once again. Not taking his hands away for the moment, Drift called softly back to the slurred voice that had reached out for him.

"I'm here, Roddy. You need me?" 

"Yeah… I… sleepy." 

Ratchet saw the hesitance on Drift's face to leave their moment. Maybe he thought I'd he walked away now, Ratchet would shut him back out. 

Dropping his hands away, Ratchet nodded him over to the bed in gentle encouragement.

"You go, I'll stay." 

But Drift shook his head, taking Ratchet's hand into his and pulling him up with more strength than he hinted at. He wasn't going to let him wriggle away once again.

Dumbly, Ratchet followed to the bed where Rodimus was blinking up at them blearily, trying to figure something out. Suddenly he grinned. 

"You guys… yeah… you guys." 

"Alright hot stuff, enough out of you, move over." 

Drift slipped off Rodimus' shoes for him, flinging them onto the floor, and gave him a little nudge over so there was room for all of them. Rodimus clumsily rolled over and then reached out for Drift, whining softly. Drift rolled his eyes and climbed onto the bed, tugging Ratchet along with him. 

As Drift made himself comfy in the middle of the bed, Rodimus cuddled up to his side, face pressed against his shoulder and fell promptly back to sleep. Drift patted the bed and slightly apprehensively, Ratchet got in too but he had no hope of staying any further away than he was wanted. The younger man pulled him over and wrapped the blanket over him, giving him no choice to snuggle up too. He turned to meet Ratchet's gaze again and smiled.

"Maybe not how I imagined our first time in a bed." 

"I never imagined sharing a bed with two much younger models, so I guess go me." 

Drift giggled softly then reached over to brush the back of his hand over Ratchet's cheek. 

"So… there's an us?" 

"...if you want there to be." 

"Do you?" 

In answer, Ratchet leaned over so he could kiss Drift again. This time there was less urgency and more emotion behind it. When he pulled away, he found his eyes were just a little watery and he nodded. 

"Yeah, I really do, kid." 


	5. Drift/Ratchet: gold prompt.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Me to myself: find the stupidest idea and apply it to Dratchet.   
Second prompt for the Dratchet Party on Twitter 💙

They were both giggling, giddy on the ripples of each other's fields,  _ love _ and  _ affection _ mingling together. All Ratchet could think about was how adorable Drift looked when he could let his happier emotions show, not held down by his demons. All Drift could think was how lucky he was to have Ratchet by his side, after all their tribulations, all their trials. 

"Ratty-!" 

But the medic was ducking his helm once again, his broad shoulders shaking as quiet gasps of laughter escaped. Playfully frustrated, Drift threw himself back onto their berth, holding his paintbrush aloft. 

"I'm sorry-!" 

"Like pit you are!" 

"I am Drift but it just…  _ tickles _ ." 

With a soft sigh, Drift sat himself back up. He wiggled so he was seated even closer to Ratchet and took his chin firmly, optics narrowed but the grin tugging at his features softened the expression. 

"Be still,  _ be shoosh _ ." 

Ratchet nodded, trying to reset his face into something more neutral. As Drift reached back out with the gold tipped paintbrush and ran it gently over his chevron, he offlined his optics and scrunched up his face. 

That was it. Drift sniggered. Ratchet wobbled. 

"That was you!"

"No it wasn't! You pulled that-that face, yeah that one!" 

They were both so caught up in their playful argument that they didn't notice that someone had nudged the berthside shelf and the tiny pot of gold paint,  _ Rodimus' _ very special pot of gold paint for special occasions, was slowly seeping off the edge and drip dropping onto the floor leaving a pool of molten sparkle. 

As Drift turned to dip his paintbrush back in, he stilled. Ratchet could only guess that it was a trick and so he grabbed a hold of Drift's wrist gently as he chuckled. 

"You  _ dare _ kid, one swipe across my cheek and-... Drift?" 

Slowly, Drift turned his helm back to Ratchet, his mouth open and his optics bright. The speedster wasn't ever one much for swearing and he always cringed a little when someone took Primus' name, but in his panic, he did both. 

"Oh holy fragging Primus,  _ he's going to kill me _ ." 

Ratchet frowned as he leaned around to see what Drift meant. He jumped up a lot quicker than even he thought he could to right the pot but it was no use, the glass was streaked with the most measly of dregs. 

"Ah. Yeah, sorry, even I can't save your aft." 

"Not  _ funny _ ." Drift palmed at his face, "I said I'd be  _ super _ careful and… and I'd paint him after." 

"It's only Chromedome and Rewind's conjunx ceremony, it's not as though it was  _ important _ for Rodimus to look shiny or anything." 

Still holding his hand to his face, Drift flopped back once again onto the berth, letting out a long, low groan. 

Maybe if they hadn't spent the previous few moments giggling madly and flirting wildly, Ratchet might have taken a more serious approach, reassured Drift that probably at most Rodimus would throw a strop for a whole week and maybe demand Magnus throw him in the brig for destruction of property, but a silliness had taken ahold and he grinned to himself as the idea came into his processor. 

With shiny fingers from picking up the paint pot, Ratchet dragged them over Drift's chest, leaving a golden smear right across his white paintwork. Drift snapped his helm up, mouth open in pure shock. 

"You did  _ not _ just do that." 

"I did." 

"Ratchet of Vaporex. You did  _ not _ just do that." 

He held up his hands and shrugged, a challenge if Drift had ever seen one. Still wielding his paintbrush, Drift struck out, catching Ratchet across the shoulder as he tried to move away, a laugh catching in his words.

"Hey!" 

"And who started it?!" 

As Drift dived forward to try and get Ratchet again, the medic threw himself up in and in his haste to get away, dipped a pede into the golden puddle on the floor. He held up his hands placatingly, doing his best  _ I'm innocent!  _ face as he backed for the door. 

"Drift…  _ sweetspark _ , you don't want to start this." 

"Ratty, dearest conjunx,  _ I've started fights over less. _ " 

Ratchet was already heading for the door as Drift's optics flashed, his grin spreading wide as he pounced from the berth. 

Just outside their habsuite in the corridor, Rodimus was whistling to himself. He was in a good mood, the  _ best _ mood. He was shiny and clean, having spent a disproportionate amount of time in the washrack as he buffed and cleaned himself. There was nothing better to a speedster than dedicating some time and effort to making yourself presentable and Rodimus' field buzzed with  _ happy _ . The only thing that would make this even better was getting touched up by Drift. 

The habsuite door opened just in front of him and he wondered if his amica was as pleased to see him as the reverse was true when he caught the medic barreling his way out and down the corridor past Rodimus. 

"Sorry Rodimus, can't stop, angry swordsmech on my aft." 

Pressing himself back against the corridor wall so he didn't get flattened by the pure strength of a mech who could lift Megatron one handed, Rodimus lifted an optic ridge. 

"What the-" 

But his thoughts were interrupted as shortly after a white blur sped past him too. 

"Drift…?" 

He tilted his helm as they disappeared around a corner, confused by the sparkling trail they'd left in their wake. Rodimus frowned then he gasped.

"Is that my gold paint?! You slaggers, I'm-..." 

But the captain of the Lost Light stopped himself, placing down the pede he'd lifted to spring after them. He huffed a small laugh and shook his helm. Drift was happy, Ratchet was happy, and Rodimus definitely had more than one pot of gold paint. Happiness was worth more than that. 


	6. Drift/Ratchet: candy prompt.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day three prompt of the Dratchet Party on Twitter, set before Drift is exiled on the Lost Light and he and Ratchet are pretending they don't love each other 😅💙

It was a mystery that even Swerve had no answers for. Of course Drift had outright asked Rodimus the first time it happened. If the speedster was guilty though he was unusually good at hiding it and surely no one else on the ship cared or even dared. 

The third time it happened, Drift was going to get to the bottom of it. He picked up the carefully wrapped box of his favourite energon treats that had been left outside his habsuite and scrunched up his face in thought. Of course just then when he wanted some peace, the ship's troublesome helicopter happened to be around. 

"Ooh a gift for a murderer, they  _ must _ like you." 

"Thanks Whirl.  _ I think _ ." 

The mech clicked his claws and laughed a little as he carried on his way. 

"I mean we're all murderers but none quite like you, ninja boy." 

With irritated exvent, Drift didn't even watch him go. There had to be someone on the ship leaving him sweet treats, he just had to figure out who exactly it was. 

"Roddy!" 

Rodimus yelped and near enough leapt out of his chair in surprise. Magnus had already caught him napping in his chair and he didn't want to have to pretend to be dead for a second time. When he realised it was Drift, he flopped back down with a snort. 

"Oh, it's just you Drift, I thought it was someone scary." 

Drift wasn't in the mood to be messing around though. He shook the box furiously as Rodimus languidly stretched and yawned, oblivious to whatever it was his amica wanted. 

"This isn't you?" 

"Uh, no, whatever it was it wasn't me… oh is that a present?" 

Drift felt his face grow a little hotter at the way Rodimus was grinning at him, now sat up and paying rapt attention as he leaned over his desk. The white mech rebooted his vocaliser and dashed his optics away. 

"Someone is doing this on purpose." 

"Well duh." 

"But who? If not you then…" 

Rodimus shrugged, the pull of a nap drawing his attention back away. 

"You asked Swerve?" 

"Yeah, he has no idea." 

"Damn, if he doesn't know then good luck finding out my friend." 

Drift was about to speak again but Rodimus' optics were already dimming. He wasn't going to get much more out of him so he huffed his way out of the captain's office, subspacing his gift and deciding to see if anyone else knew about it instead. 

Ratchet was starting to get a helmache. His optics just wouldn't focus and no matter how much he reset them they still wouldn't behave. He supposed that's what you got when you put off all of your paperwork and let your fellow medics go have a well deserved break off shift. 

With a yawn, he dropped his light pen down and stretched out his back, wincing at the way it popped. 

"I'm too old for this…" 

He had a few moments to rest, offlining his optics and tipping his helm back against his chair but even if he looked like he wasn't on alert, he always was. He heard the medbay door softly woosh open and he sighed under his vents without onlining his optics.

"Whatever you've done can it wait just one klik for me to finish resting my optics?" 

The voice that spoke back wasn't the one he was expecting and he couldn't help but online his gaze, raising his optic ridges in surprise. 

"I'm not injured just… needed someone intelligent." 

"...you haven't come for some positive energy then?" 

Drift merely sighed and shrugged his shoulders in a forlorn way. If Ratchet was into that aura stuff, which he definitely wasn't, he decided Drift would look rather blue. He tried to lighten his mood by prodding him in that grumpy, offhand way he was good at.

"I'm either losing my touch or you're so bothered by something even my sniping can't bait you." 

He sat himself up and waited for Drift to come forward, but instead he stood near the entrance to the medbay, looking as lost as the first time Ratchet had met his optics. He found himself so lost in remembering that golden gaze fixed on him as he told him he was special that he didn't register what Drift had said. 

"Sorry?" 

"...it doesn't matter." 

But as the other mech turned to head for the door, Ratchet sighed once again and picked up his light pen, tapping it against his desk.

"I can't help if you don't talk to me." 

"I know." Drift snapped then his field rippled with  _ regret _ , "it's just… I guess you're probably one of the only crew members that actually wants to talk to me. Roddy… listens in his own way and Magnus tolerates me being third in command because he has to but everyone else? Yeah, well…" 

Ratchet hated to hear that sadness from him; the mech that tried so hard nowadays to be upbeat, irritatingly so. Maybe Drift did deserve to feel more than just a little bit guilty over what he'd done but most of the time Ratchet found himself angry that the system, that society had been the one to fail the speedster and whilst that couldn't take the whole blame, maybe it had forced his hand into a life of destruction. 

"Kid…" 

The word slipped out with a whole load of emotion alongside it. It took Ratchet a moment to compose himself back into the professional he should be but Drift had dropped his helm, he'd definitely noticed. Ratchet rebooted his vocaliser and tried again. 

"It's hard for all of us to tolerate one another these days, I'm not exactly  _ thrilled _ with half the stuff Rodimus does and the other half I will hold my hands up and say is downright ridiculous but… if you've at least got someone, that's something right?" 

"...even if everyone else hates you?" 

"Drift…"

"I can read auras Ratchet, I know exactly what others think. I see how they darken when I enter a room, I can see how they swirl into red or black or blue whenever I speak! I get it, I do, I… I've made a lot of mistakes…" 

"You and me both but that doesn't mean you get to punish yourself for all of eternity over it." 

"Doesn't it?" 

Feeling himself frustrated as he usually ended up feeling when Drift was involved, Ratchet leaned his face into a hand, rubbing his digits across his chevron where that ache wouldn't seem to relent. It was stress or strain or something, maybe he just needed to forget the paperwork and recharge, or maybe it was something else bothering him.

"If I said I actually enjoyed your company would you go away so I could try and get my damn job done?" 

In reply, after a moment's hesitation, Drift turned and padded quietly over to Ratchet's desk. He leant against it, folding his arms across his chest and fixed his optics on the other side of the medbay, a strange little smile on his face. Ratchet stayed as he was, lifting his optics to take him in briefly before rooting them back to his desk. 

"You know what's funny?" 

"Magnus getting stressed when I don't use a comma in the right place?" 

"Other than that." He paused, "I can't ever get a read on you, at least not totally. It's like… a flicker of colour, a flash of light and then… it's gone." 

Ratchet wanted to sigh again. His helmache seemed to throb for a moment and he growled softly as he opened his desk drawer, searching for some pain relief, his digits brushing the box he had stored all the way at the back so no one else could see.

"I'm a medic, I have to keep a full reign on my field." 

"Even now though, it's pulled in tight." 

"I'm at work." 

"With no patients, just me." 

He tried to ignore the stutter in his spark, narrowing his optics as he peered into the drawer. If he looked like this conversation wasn't bothering, maybe Drift would just drop it.

"Yeah well old habits die hard right?" 

"Hm." 

As Ratchet found the medication, he caught Drift's movement out of the corner of his optic. He knocked the pain relief back and shook his helm before he realised what exactly the other mech was doing. 

In the very tips of his digits of both hands, Drift was holding a box. Ratchet cleared his intake and picked up his pen, suddenly very interested in his work. 

"What's that?"

"...I was hoping you could tell me." 

Ratchet laughed sharply but Drift saw his field slip, like a glimpse of the moon through the clouds, a myriad of colours that was suddenly gone. He grinned to himself, for once he had him, then put the box back into his subspace. 

Even though he'd seen some of the medic's true feelings, he was wary as he reached out and patted Ratchet's shoulder. 

"Thank you." 

The medic managed a small smile back without looking up, wanting to lift his hand and place it on Drift's, but he didn't. He couldn't, he shouldn't. 

"Yeah well… doesn't mean I don't think you're as annoying as pit." 

"Oh I know. I don't need to read your field to see that." Drift grinned broader, pushing himself away from the desk, "don't work too hard." 

"Do I ever?" 

Ratchet asked dryly as Drift headed for the door. He laughed softly, a noise that Ratchet tried to commit to his memory, and waved a hand in the air as he bid his goodbyes. 

A few moments passed and Ratchet stopped watching the door finally. He smiled to himself, going to close his desk drawer when he stopped. With a frown he pulled out the box he'd stashed at the back and considered something for a moment. 

Someone had been slipping his own favourite energon treats into his drawer and now he had an idea of who. 


	7. Drift/Ratchet: hearts resolved and hands prepared.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day four prompt for the Dratchet Party on Twitter.  
I really did struggle with this one and all I could think about was that as they were canonically smooching their way back to all of their friends, there was bound to be an argument or two along the way 🤷🏼💙

It had been a long journey but now their destination was in sight, the two mechs were feeling relieved, not just at the thought of their travelling being over but not so secretly relieved that they could have others to talk to. 

At first their conversation had been stilted, too many awkward pauses and the tension was so high Drift could have sliced it but that had given way to something else; gentle touches and whispered words, secrets spilled and heated frames. 

Now? Now Ratchet was pissed as hell. 

It had started off innocently enough, an offhand comment as they bantered between themselves that had apparently struck a chord with Drift. The narrow optics and bristled plates had plainly meant _ stop _ but Drift's glossa was as sharp and as wicked as his weapons as he struck out back.

_ "I don't always need your protection, Drift." _

_ "Are you sure? Because I'm sure a silly, old mech like you couldn't throw a punch even if he _ wanted _ to." _

They were both stung, hurting, but Ratchet had pulled them into a bar in their holoforms at a refuel station all the same. Glad to see that they stocked at least something that wouldn't rot their tanks, Ratchet ordered two mugs and headed back across to the booth where Drift was looking more than just a little peeved. 

He placed down their drinks and tried to make light of the situation. 

"Guess your holoform scrubbed up okay too after fixing all those scrapes and dents." 

Ratchet was met with an amber glare as Drift sipped his drink. With a sigh he rubbed his hand through his hair and tried to find some words from somewhere, anything else to stop this frostiness between them. 

"Drift… I didn't mean-" 

"Don't." He shook his head once, "just… _ don't._" 

That was warning enough for Ratchet and as he drank his own mug slowly, Drift was downing his and getting up to grab another. 

Ratchet stay where he was, fiddling with a coaster as he tried to get a hold of his thoughts.

He was angry alright, but at himself. He wasn't thinking when he said it and now he'd unintentionally hurt Drift. He hated doing it and he needed to fix it. 

Just as he lifted his drink again he caught a raised voice across the bar. He stiffened with fear; anger in Drift meant he didn't go down without a fight. As the noise began to rise, Ratchet dived out of the booth. 

Drift was pinned back to the bar by two slightly taller aliens. Their skin was slick and blue, their eyes bright green and their hands, in a loose sense, were pointing ferociously at the holoform. 

"-watch where you're going pal!" 

"Yeah!" 

Ratchet palmed at his face, "oh jeez…" 

Drift bared his teeth, his jacket stained wet where he'd obviously bumped into one of them. He wasn't scared of them, he wasn't scared of a fight. 

"How about you back off before I _ make _ you." 

"Puny little stick thing like you? I'd like to see you try!" 

"Yeah!" 

As Ratchet went to sweep in, diffuse the situation in the way he was good at, he felt a slimy appendage tighten on his shoulder. He glanced back to see a few other of the same species looming up on them. He turned back to met Drift's smoldering gaze.

It didn't matter how furious Drift was at Ratchet, when it came down to it, he would protect him with his life. 

The first alien didn't even see the swinging blow that sent its vision spinning and the second stepped back in shock. 

Unfortunately, Drift and Ratchet were surrounded. Fortunately, the two travellers hadn't spent four millions years in a war to go down in some dodgy bar way too far from home. 

Ratchet pulled the alien right over his shoulder as another lunged for Drift. 

"Nice to see you still care." Ratchet quipped sarcastically.

"Still-? Are you _ for real_? I've always cared!" 

"Oh here we go…" 

Drift shoved the alien back as another tried to pin him over the bar. He brought his knee up, hoping for a weak spot somewhere and he found it, sending his attacker to the floor. He pointed over at Ratchet, his eyes narrowed. 

"Don't _ here we go _ me, this is what got us here!" 

"Oh yeah because I really threw a tantrum at Rodimus and left in the middle of a crisis to listen to your _ bitching._" 

Ratchet brought his fist back to aim it into the next alien in his face but it was grabbed roughly. He rolled his eyes and used his other fist, what use was a medic who couldn't be ambidextrous after all?

"Ratchet, I didn't ask you to come!" 

"No? But what would have happened if I hadn't? Who would you have started a fight on next?" 

"I can handle myself!"

"Can you kid? Can you?" 

With a growl, Drift pushed back the alien descending upon him and hooked an arm around the one trying to wrench Ratchet's arm from his socket. It panicked and let go, turning on Drift instead. 

"I've been handling myself just fine, _ thank you_." 

"Oh yeah? What about the times before that? Let's face it, you-" 

One of the aliens caught Ratchet across the jaw with a stinging punch. He didn't even let his head stop spinning before he kicked out, sending it crashing across a table. Ratchet blinked to try and clear his visor and then glanced behind at Drift. 

"Let's face it, you need _ someone, _as much as you pretend not to, as much as you push us away, you… you hate doing it alone." 

Ratchet's words spurred Drift on. He threw his head full force into the alien that had its appendages wrapped around his neck and it relented its grip enough for him to slip out as the alien stumbled away. He backed off, holding his neck with his chest heaving. 

"Of course I hate doing it alone! But… I distance myself because when I don't, someone gets hurt! And the last thing I ever want is for… for you to get hurt…" 

Ratchet had turned back to face Drift. His hair was flopped over his face so Ratchet couldn't read his expression but the pure emotion in his voice meant that he didn't have to. Drift was hurting, Drift had always been hurting, and the last thing he needed was for Ratchet to hurt him back. 

"Kid… what I said, I didn't mean it okay? It was supposed to be a joke, a _ bad _ one." 

"...neither did I. M'sorry too." 

Drift lifted his head and met Ratchet's smile a little weakly but then time seemed to slow. One of the aliens had recovered and swept up behind Ratchet to point a blaster at the back of his head. Drift's expression dropped but Ratchet was as calm as he ever was. When he spoke his voice was as hard as steel and it sent shivers through Drift. Of course the medic didn't need protecting and for a moment he felt foolish; Ratchet had done just fine without him.

"I suggest you point that somewhere else." 

"I'll shoot! I will!" 

"No you won't." 

Drift had only seen Ratchet move as fast as he did then when he was performing an operation. He turned and grabbed the blaster, twisted it until the alien's hand popped and tilted his head as it dropped to the floor with a garbled scream. 

His shoulders dropped as he composed himself. Maybe he'd done it to make a point or maybe he'd done it because he feared what would happen to Drift without him. Regardless, self preservation hadn't ever been high on either of their lists but now they had each other, it needed to be.

"...I might not always need your protection, Drift, but it doesn't mean I don't want it, okay?" 

"...and you're not just a silly old mech who couldn't throw a punch even if he wanted to." 

With a grin, Ratchet turned and held up the blaster. Drift couldn't help but cock a crooked smile in return. 

"Old, but not silly, and not afraid of a fight. C'mon, let's blow this place, we haven't got much farther to go." 

Ratchet disarmed the weapon and dropped it with a clatter, having to step over a groaning alien on the floor. As he took Drift's hand, he couldn't help but feel a rush of love. 

He might have found it frustrating how protective Drift was but that was how he showed his love. 

Ratchet grinned even more, when they got back to the shuttle, he was going to show his love for Drift in his own little way. 


	8. Drift/Ratchet: sleepiness prompt NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day five for the Dratchet Party on Twitter. Heads up for NSFW although it's probably not explicit enough for some 😂💙 I'm going to hold up my hands and say human sex is totally out of my comfort zone and I literally wrote this in half an hour so, yeah, I hope it's okay.

In the confines of their room, cocooned away from the world, Drift had watched Ratchet sleep for what felt like an eternity. He'd perched on his husband's bedside, hearing his chest rattle in a way that sent panic flickering through him, until Ratchet heaved a cough and moved, settling into his side and into a more peaceful sleep. Sometimes he would pace the room, flicking his gaze across whenever Ratchet stirred and sometimes he would dare to move as far as the kitchen, for fresh water, for more medicine, a small ration of food then hurriedly make his way back. 

Drift didn't like waiting, he was impatient, frustrated and it reflected in his face, in his posture. He was tense and his expression was stern, pinched. 

When Ratchet finally started to feel a little better, the flu giving way to merely more than a cough and a fatigue that still left him dozing every morning and afternoon, Drift relaxed, just a little, just enough to share a laugh or a soft kiss across his partner's warm forehead. 

Velocity had called in just to check on her old friend, even if Drift had been more than just a little insistent she did, and on doctor's orders she'd told him the cure was sleep and love. 

It was on the fifth day of Ratchet's illness that Drift understood what kind of love was needed. 

He'd woken early, too many years of training made sure that he couldn't ever sleep past 7am, and lay staring at the ceiling. He had his arms propped behind his head, his dark hair falling out from where he'd scraped it back into a bun and the covers pulled up to his bare waist. Ratchet was usually smothering him with body heat and since he'd been sick, Drift had vanquished clothes from both of them when they'd been in bed. He glanced over at his beloved and noticed he was awake, just about.

As he went to open his mouth to speak, Ratchet closed the gap between them and pressed his lips softly to Drift's. With a soft murmur, he returned it, wriggling onto his side so he could gently cradle Ratchet's face. He couldn't help but smile a little at the rough stubble growing through as he stroked his thumb over his cheek and Ratchet deepened the kiss. 

Drift pulled away, narrowing his eyes as he wanted to say _ you're sick _ but Ratchet merely grinned and with that medic strength he had even whilst weak, pulled his husband into him even more, pressing their heated bodies together. Drift couldn't help the soft moan that slipped from him. He'd missed this, the tangling of their bodies together and the hot, thrill of lust leaping up inside of him. 

Spurred on by the noise, Ratchet nuzzled against Drift's neck as his talented hands swept down his side, teasing touches meant to elicit even more sounds of pleasure. Drift complied, closing his eyes tightly as he gasped softly, melting under Ratchet's touches. 

Drift brought one of his hands up to run it through Ratchet's hair, the desperate need to touch every part of his husband winning as he pressed their hot bodies even closer. As Ratchet brushed his hand so very lightly over his hip, Drift decided he couldn't wait. 

Tenderly dominant, Drift coaxed Ratchet over onto his side, pressing himself against his back. This time it was Ratchet gasping a moan, a shudder running through him. He needed Drift, all of Drift. 

Reaching over into his bedside drawer for what he needed to make them both prepared, Drift slowly, teasingly slid his length into Ratchet. The younger man moaned with every movement whilst Ratchet only groaned softly as soon as they were pressed together tightly. Drift began to kiss the back of Ratchet's neck, his arms wrapped around his lover tightly, gently brushing his hands over his chest. Ratchet brought his own hands up to Drift's, fastening them around his wrists, arching his back and letting out a soft grumbly moan. 

Drift moved slowly, rocking his hips fully into Ratchet. There wasn't any ferocity as was pretty usual when Drift took the reigns, it was soft and sweet and Ratchet knew it wouldn't ever last long enough. After nearly a week of feeling tired and weak, Ratchet needed this, the love, the touches. 

He pushed back into Drift, moaning once again. Drift moaned back, sneaking his hand lower until he'd taken a hold of Ratchet to stroke him slowly. The touch sent Ratchet wild and he bucked into Drift's hand, tightening his grip onto his wrists. 

Drift buried his face against the back Ratchet's neck, breathing in his scent, relishing in feeling his skin so intimately close to his. The tension had melted away, the worry and the anxiety pushed far away and replaced with love and joy. 

They needed this, they needed each other. 

Ratchet's breath was soon heaving in ragged huffs and Drift was holding back, only letting himself go as his beloved crashed down into pure bliss. They both moaned and sighed and gasped as pleasure coursed through their bodies, riding on a high of love. 

When Drift blinked his eyes open, his first worry was that he'd pushed Ratchet too far. He moved to look over at his husband's face but was reassured as soon as Ratchet moved, reaching back to caress Drift's cheek to urge him to lay back down. With a soft groan, Drift flopped his head back onto the pillow and closed his eyes again. Ratchet sighed and Drift was glad to hear that there was no rattle from his chest, no cough caught in his throat; he was over the worst of it, for sure. 

When they both felt recovered enough to move, Ratchet rolled over and huffed a soft laugh as he pressed himself against Drift, nuzzling into his chest. 

"We both need a shower." He croaked. 

"Mmhm." 

"No bed bath for me then?" 

"Lotty offered but I did say she wasn't your type." Drift grinned, creaking open one eye, "you're sweaty, and _ sticky._" 

"And you're as charming as ever." 

Ratchet yawned and rubbed tiredly at his face. Drift kissed the top of his head and lay a hand between his shoulder blades, stroking softly. 

"Be shoosh, sleep now, then shower." 

But Ratchet was already drifting off again, safe and secure in the knowledge that Drift had him in every way. 


	9. Drift/Ratchet: broken and bleeding prompt.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sixth day of the Dratchet Party on Twitter and I am of course fashionably late 😉 
> 
> I had a sick kiddo to look after and this is the longest one I've written I think. I got super stuck on the ending and I'm not entirely happy but I think you've waited long enough, so here you go 💙

All Deadlock wanted was to hit a washrack and collapse into a berth, not that he ever recharged much as such but at least there he could try and find some peace even if there was no privacy. The rest of Turmoil's crew had been out, causing chaos, taking lives, but his spark wasn't in it, not today. Memories had come creeping in whilst he'd been turning in his berth the day before and the tendrils of pain and grief felt like they'd inched their way through every part of him, carving their way through his lines, leaving misery in their wake until they'd clutched at his spark. Even now he couldn't shake the squeezing in his chest, the reminder of what was, the reason he was the way he was. 

With a sigh, he ran a hand over his helm and headed down the corridor of the ship towards the washracks when he found his way blocked. Never one to be patient with anyone, Deadlock barked an order. 

"Move." 

Lockdown merely cocked a hip in reply, smirking just a little. Deadlock tried again. 

"_Move_." 

"Where were you when we were out?" 

"None of your business." 

This time Deadlock tried to force his path, using his bulk and strength to push Lockdown back but the other mech relented as soon as their frames hit. He held up his hands and shrugged but Deadlock didn't like how easy it'd been or the look on Lockdown's face as soon as he'd clocked him. Regardless, he pushed on and past, not bothering to look back as he snapped. 

"If you want to appreciate my frame you can-"

"Buy it from you?" 

Deadlock didn't stop but there was a moment his shoulders hitched, just a little. He felt the squeeze in his chest but pushed down the feeling, snorting and shaking his helm. 

"Like I'd ever stoop so low." 

"Or any _ lower_, right?" 

This time the white mech did stop. His hands were clenched so tightly at his sides that he felt the joints pop with the pressure. He turned slowly, a cold sneer on his face. 

"I think you should rethink how exactly you're talking to your _ superior_, Lockdown." 

"There's nothing superior about you, _ Drift._" 

His old name, his _ real _name, spoken by Lockdown in his new life sent icy panic flooding through him. He tried to calm the tremble that made his plates bristle and fixed his face into something more neutral, flattening his field even more tightly to himself, but he knew he couldn't hide the swirl of emotion behind his optics.

Lockdown grinned, making a show of checking his gun for a moment. 

"Nothing smart to say now? No _ orders_?" 

"...who have you told?" 

"Me? It wasn't me that found out in the first place, but tell me something… what exactly is it about the _ medic _ that leaves you weak?" 

This time Deadlock felt his spark still for the smallest moment and he felt that icy panic turn into an avalanche of fear. He was totally frozen, not sure whether it was a trick or not, but then his usual instincts kicked in and he reached for his two blasters, aiming them directly at Lockdown, one at his helm, one at his spark. 

Lockdown didn't even flinch. 

"Tsk _ tsk_. I wouldn't, if you want him to keep his own helm." 

"...he's not here." 

It was meant to be a statement of defiance, delivered with a snort of disbelief but Deadlock's vocals had lost their edge, curbed by his processor repeating _ what if, what if, what if? _

"Maybe you should go fund Turmoil and find out?" 

Deadlock lowered his weapons before Lockdown could see the tremble shaking its way through his frame and started to back up. He managed a snarl even if his vocals fizzed with static at the end. 

"If I find out you've lied, I'll be back for you." 

Lockdown grinned and tilted his helm, ramming a charge into his gun.

"I look forward to it if you do." 

As Deadlock got around the corner, away from the other mech, he leaned heavily against a wall. His vents were rattling and there was a horrible heaviness in his tanks. They didn't have Ratchet, they couldn't have, how would they even know? 

It took him a few moments to compose himself enough to head up to the bridge, Turmoil's domain. When he got there he realised it was the first time he'd ever been glad to see him and he exvented slowly. 

"Deadlock." 

It was a question, a hint of annoyance not so thinly veiled. Deadlock may have been second in command but Turmoil didn't like anyone in his space unless he'd directly summoned them. The captain's chair creaked as the huge mech moved, casting his optics over the navigation controls and making a small adjustment. 

"I just… wanted to check in before I retire to my berth." 

"Hm." 

Deadlock placed a hand against his chest, trying to calm the wild spin of his spark. Lockdown was playing with him, like a beast with its kill, but Deadlock was no plaything. When he thought Turmoil wasn't going to say any more, Deadlock turned. He needed his berth more than ever; he was exhausted, emotionally battered and mentally fatigued.

"Funny, isn't it? How our pasts usually manage to creep up on us." 

The heaviness in his tanks came back tenfold and Deadlock felt like that avalanche of fear was going to crush him. Could you drop dead from pure dread? 

"I don't-" 

"Pay a gutter mech enough, and they'll talk. Even if you blow their helms off after and pry the shanix from their grey hand." Turmoil still didn't turn his helm, "you talk when you recharge. Didn't take long to track down what happened to him after the Dead End clinic shut up shop. I just need to know, _ Deadlock _, where your loyalties lie." 

"...where is he?" 

"In the brig, unless one of your subordinates took it upon themselves to throw the bag of medic spare parts out of the airlock. Probably should have treated them better." 

But the last words went unheard, Deadlock was already streaking towards the brig. With a soft, humourless laugh, Turmoil heaved up his heavy frame and followed. 

Ratchet had been in worse situations. At least he thought he had but the punch that sent his vision fizzing at the edges made him doubt that briefly. Energon was dripping down the side of his face. One of them had drawn a blade across his chevron and that had _stung_ _like a bitch_, if he was going to use a loose medical term. His hands were bound so tightly in chains that they throbbed all the way up to his shoulders, but even they were starting to feel numb from where he was strung up from the ceiling.

Maybe he'd been in worse situations, but only when Wheeljack and explosives had been involved. He would have done anything then to have been trying to coax his friend not to use quite so many dangerous materials. He would have even settled for Bumblebee lifting an optic ridge at him or Optimus sighing when he told him his new medbay wasn't a place for war talk.

A kick across his side plating made his vents stall. He dropped his helm and tried to remind his frame that it needed to vent so he didn't overheat and when they finally stuttered to life again, he managed a laugh. 

"You guys are shit at torture, if you want to torture someone, you need to be a medic to know where it really hurts." 

"Oh no, you see, it's not supposed to hurt _ you _ as such…" 

There was a collective snigger from the three mechs who were beating Ratchet. He lifted his helm, about to spit out the energon that was pooled in his mouth from where he'd bitten his glossa but he stopped, his optics going bright. 

In the doorway to his cell stood another mech. Ratchet thought for a moment he was definitely disassociating to block out the pain but there was no way he could imagine the emotion in the optics that stared back at him.

"Drift?" 

With a deep invent, Deadlock stepped forward and all of those emotions were gone. All that stared back was a crimson gaze of hate and anger and misery. He held out a hand and one of the other mech's shifted uncomfortably, before handing over the long knife he was holding. Deadlock was notorious for his lack of empathy. 

With two quick steps forward, Deadlock lodged the blade under Ratchet's chest plate and the medic couldn't help but cry out as the pain shot through him like an electric shock. Deadlock leaned in closely and twisted the blade just a little. Ratchet shuddered and bit his glossa even more, energon leaking from the side of his mouth. He wouldn't look up, look into those hateful optics. This wasn't Drift and he was stupid to think that this was going to end any other way. 

Then he felt it. The smallest flicker from Deadlock's field. _ Regret,_ _guilt_, _ comfort. _ Then it was gone, like a bandage ripped from a wound, a blanket tugged from a warm body. 

"Don't doubt my loyalty." 

Turmoil had finally caught up and was watching from the doorway to the brig, his second in command glancing over his shoulder briefly as he heard his approach. Deadlock twisted the blade even more then left it lodged in Ratchet's chest. The medic heaved in a vent, wondering how many more he was going to ever get to do. 

"Deadlock, I need to have my trust in you, my _ faith _ , and what better way than for you to dispose of your past, _ fully_." 

"Faith?" Deadlock laughed harshly, "don't make me purge. We live, we die, some of us just more painfully than others." 

The punch that came from nowhere sent Ratchet's helm snapping around. The next one made sure he didn't even have a chance to recover. Even though it was painful, Ratchet tried to curl up, protect himself but it was no good. More and more energon was drip dropping onto the floor and his frame was starting to weaken even with his trauma protocols kicking in. There was only so much someone could take. 

He offlined his optics, prepared himself for the worse.

"...at least… don't leave me rotting on some… _ Decepticon _ ship…" 

Deadlock aimed another punch, right under where the knife was twisted into Ratchet's frame. Ratchet muffled a cry, Deadlock didn't even flinch. 

"Satisfied?" Deadlock cocked his helm, pulling out both of his blasters, "he's done for, and so is this part of my past." 

Turmoil watched for any hint that Deadlock was faking his feelings and about to turn on the rest of them. The mech was rock steady. There was no hint of mutiny and so he nodded in confirmation, turned for the door. 

"Make sure you strip him for anything useful." 

Deadlock laughed in agreement and brought up his blaster. Defiantly, Ratchet lifted his helm and tried to get his optics to focus. Now he was sure he was hallucinating because the Decepticon with a gun to his helm winked. 

Before anyone could react, Deadlock moved both arms wide and shot the two other mechs to his sides straight through the helm. They crumpled without so much as a scream and as the last one stared in shock, Deadlock shot him twice through the helm. 

He listened for a moment, for any hint that Turmoil had turned back, any urgent pedesteps. He only had a few moments before the captain returned to the bridge and saw on the cameras that three of his crew members were dead and the other two were gone.

Supporting Ratchet's weight, Deadlock shot through the chain, his optics flashing in shock at how heavy the medic actually was. 

"Fragging Primus…" 

"...don't think… he's gonna help…" 

"Save your wit for later, we've got to go." 

"Leave me kid, just…" Ratchet groaned as he tried to take some of his own weight, "...go." 

"No way, I didn't just risk my aft for you to die here on some _ Decepticon ship_." 

Ratchet couldn't help but laugh, regret immediately flashing through him as his injury flared with pain.

"At least you knew… not to rip the… knife out…" 

"And endure a medic's wrath? I don't think so." 

It was slow going but Deadlock got them half way along to the shuttle bays before the alarm sounded. The shrill shriek felt like it was shaking through Ratchet's frame and he offlined his optics with a grimace. Deadlock looked over him briefly then focussed his sights on their goal again. 

"I'll set the shuttle on autopilot, we're not far from Cybertron, you'll be okay."

"Me? No k-kid… what about you?" 

"...I deserve everything I get."

"Drift-"

Ratchet's words were cut off as a blaster shot pinged past his audial. Without looking, Deadlock pulled out one blaster and shot back over his shoulder, gritting his denta. He just needed to get Ratchet out of here and then, well, he'd face the music. 

Apparently even though the medic was desperately injured, he wasn't going to go down without a fight either. He grabbed Deadlock's other blaster, his hand briefly brushing his hip and started to shoot back too. 

When the shuttle bays finally came into view, Deadlock vented a sigh of relief, until he realised Turmoil had locked the shop down. Swearing heavily, he placed down his injured companion and tried to override the lock manually, handing Ratchet the other blaster. 

"We die, it's on you." 

"That's fine, just tap into my medic guilt... although when I'm dead… won't have to worry about that." 

"Not when, _ if._" 

Deadlock snapped, tapping away at the console. 

Ratchet's arms were shaking as he took aim and fired, just enough to warn them back. He'd have no hope of reloading, his strength was being sapped, and he didn't even dare glance at where he knew there was a pink puddle gathering beneath him. 

He gritted his denta. Aim, fire, aim, fire. His HUD flashed with warnings but he dismissed them angrily, he didn't need his internal systems telling him he was one pede through to the other side. 

Deadlock finally had it, the shuttle loading doors wooshed open. He manhandled Ratchet through the doors, dragging him under his arms and leaving a streak of pink in their wake. Deadlock hauled up the injured mech to stand and grabbed onto his shoulders, his optics bright and wild.

"Go, _ now_." 

"You-" 

"Go!" 

Deadlock snarled as he backed up, retreating back into the depths. Ratchet threw the weapons back over to him and he caught them, turning in the doorway to give him cover. 

It was painful but Ratchet managed to limp his way along to the pilot chair, holding onto it tightly as he leaned over the controls. He fired up the shuttle, bashed some coordinates into the navigation and glanced back over his shoulder. 

Just as someone took fire at Deadlock. Just as his saviour slammed the doors shut. The last thing he saw was the Decepticon crumpling to the floor in an explosion of pink. 

The medic threw himself forward, banging his fist against the control panel for the door repeatedly until it shuddered open. He wasn't thinking about how many guns were going to be pointed at him on the other side of the door or the fact that he had a ticket to freedom, his only thought was Drift and whether he was dead. The last mech he ever wanted to slip through his digits was Drift. 

He pulled the dead weight through the shuttle door and palmed it shut again, narrowing avoiding a gun shot wound himself. He didn't even have time to check whether Deadlock was alive, he had to get them out of there before someone tore the door off. 

The shots pinging off the shuttle were as loud as the huffs of his vents and Ratchet pushed himself forward, through the pain and the intrusive thoughts. 

_ He's not dead. He's not dead. He's not dead. _

Ratchet threw himself down into the pilot seat and with a shaking hand, took a hold of the controls. 

He just needed to get them away and then, and then…

No. He needed to concentrate, he needed to keep his thoughts in right now. Feelings didn't come into being a medic, feelings hindered, feelings interfered. 

He pulled them away from Turmoil's ship, snaking under the belly of it in the hopes of not coming under fire as soon as they were away, and they just needed to get away. If they came under fire, they'd stand no hope.

Ratchet cursed himself for not taking up piloting lessons as he pinged through for anyone who might answer, Bumblebee or Ironhide or hell he'd even settle for either of the troublesome twins. Maybe if he hadn't gone back to his old clinic in Rodion, just to reminisce, he wouldn't have been set upon by what he first thought were thieves but had quickly realised were mechs out for energon in an entirely different way.

He dropped his helm and tried to compose himself. 

"...they won't follow. At least, not yet." 

Ratchet startled at the voice. Deadlock was right behind him, leaning onto the back of the chair and he glanced back and up.

"Drift-!" 

"Just keep going. They might change their mind." 

"Why won't they follow?" 

Ratchet turned his helm back to the controls as Deadlock dropped his helm, looking down to the seeping, jagged wound in his side. 

"Because… they got what they wanted." 

His optics offlined before he even hit the floor.

* * *

Ratchet sighed as he glanced up at the patient in the berth of his medbay. They'd managed to stabilise Drift and he was just waiting for him to come around from induced stasis. His own wounds had been fixed, even if he had been a lousy patient, demanding to help patch up Drift as soon as he'd stopped leaking. 

"History has a habit of repeating itself." 

The soft rumble of one of his oldest friends was usually comforting but Ratchet was still recovering, physically, mentally. If history repeated itself, did that mean Drift would walk out of his life for a second time? He wasn't sure if his spark would take it. 

"Apparently so. Or I just have lousy luck." 

Optimus laughed softly, "quite." 

Ratchet paused for a moment as Drift stirred, his face scrunching up before it settled back into something more peaceful. 

"...how much longer is this going to go on? How many more are we going to lose to death or something worse in this damn war?" 

"What happened to no talking about the war in the medbay?" 

Ratchet turned back and gave Optimus a look. The bigger mech merely smiled and reached out to place a hand onto the medic's shoulder, his field flickering with _ comfort _. 

"You do not know if you will lose him again, Ratchet. Have some faith." 

At that, Ratchet scoffed and turned his helm back, setting his optics on Drift's steady vents.

"Religion now too? You can definitely get out." 

With another soft laugh, Optimus withdrew his hand and left. Ratchet meant no harm, he knew that, it was his way of dealing with what had happened. 

Ratchet waited until Optimus' footsteps had fallen away until he spoke. 

"You don't have to pretend any more." 

"...how did you know?" 

"Your vents changed. I've been a medic a long time, too long…" 

Drift turned his helm and onlined his optics. It was still a little jarring, those red orbs staring back but Ratchet pushed past it. He cleared his intake and tried to start, but Drift held up a hand. 

"Don't. I know what you're going to say…" 

"Kid, I don't care what you say, I don't want you back out there, I… I…" 

"Ratchet. I… I can't..." 

Dropping his helm, Ratchet hunched forward, his arms on his knees and he shook his helm. He was angry, he was sad, he was weary. How many more was he going to have to watch walk out of his medbay and into the jaws of death? 

"...I can't go back either. They think I'm dead, might as well act like it…" 

He snapped his helm up. Drift's expression had softened, he'd meant it, every word. 

"You… you're staying?" 

"Not quite what I said…" he caught the other mech's expression, "...but I'm not ignoring your advice, twice." 

"...so you cared enough to listen?" 

"No, I just thought maybe you'd give me the whole _ you're special _ speech to me again." 

Ratchet grinned and so did Drift. 

"Forget it, don't want it going to your helm." 

"...that's a shame because last time it went to my spark." 

There was a moment where their fields clashed before they both pulled them back in. They were both surprised that the other felt the same and before Drift could say anything else, Ratchet had leaned in to kiss him, softly, sweetly. Drift tried to pull him in closer and Ratchet winced, pulling back with a laugh. 

"Yeah, well, maybe we should take it easy on each other…" 

"Ratchet, I'm sorry, I didn't-" 

"Ssh, kid, just don't." He smiled, "let's not go there, yeah? You and me, we've got the future, let's not dwell on the past." 

Drift reached a hand out, lacing his digits with Ratchet's. He smiled. 

"Yeah, I've done enough of that." 

"Exactly. Now you need to rest." 

"So do you, some lousy Decepticon stabbed you." 

"At least he didn't leave me rotting on a Decepticon ship."

With a soft laugh, Drift winced and offlined his optics, settling his helm comfortably on his pillow. 

"And neither did you. Thank you." 

Ratchet couldn't help but smile as he watched Drift fall back into recharge, their hands still intertwined. This time, he wouldn't let him slip through his digits. 


	10. Whirl/First Aid NSFW heat cycle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First Aid is absolutely letting no one in whilst his heat cycle runs its course. Nope. No way. Oh, well, maybe one cute helicopter...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new ship has crashed into my docks and forced my muse's hand, sorry? 😅 This is my first smut including Whirl and it was difficult so bare with me. I also don't write him or First Aid much so sorry if anyone feels they're OOC.

Heat cycles sucked. That was First Aid's official diagnosis anyway. He couldn't work, just picking up a tool sent his sensitive hands tingling, and going to Swerve's was a definite _ no _. He didn't want to be the centre of attention at all and so his best bet was curling up in his habsuite and trying not to climb the walls. 

Easier said than done. 

He groaned as he bristled his plates, trying to dispel some of the warmth from his frame somehow and ignore the aching behind his panel. He'd tried to keep on top of it himself but this heat seemed more furious than any of his previous ones, like it was fuelled by emotions. 

But then again, it was. 

Just as he was about to patch a call to Ratchet and ask if he could induce stasis on himself, there was a ping for entry at his door. He tilted his helm and called out cautiously. 

"Hello?" 

"It's me." 

First Aid rose from the berth quickly, his face flushing. It was bare as was pretty usual when he was in his habsuite and he touched one cheek gently with the back of his hand. 

"W-Whirl? Everything okay?"

"Just lemme in, Doc." 

The vocals that came through the door were quieter than usual, less abrasive and snarky but that still didn't make First Aid want to open the door. He couldn't let Whirl see him like this, desperate and vulnerable and wanting.

"I'm a little busy, can you come back?" 

There was a soft snort then , "busy fragging yourself?" 

With a long sigh to himself, First Aid palmed his face then crossed to open the door, tugging the dark mech inside quickly. 

Whirl was struck, not only by the intensity of the warmth radiating from First Aid's frame but his face. Sure he'd seen him without his usual mask a few times by now but it was the first time he'd ever seen him look so bare and open. He felt nervous and he nearly laughed at himself in disbelief. _ Nervous? _Whirl was never nervous. 

He watched as First Aid crossed the room, trying not to ogle too openly even if his back was turned. He couldn't sense a heat in the usual way but Whirl was most definitely picking up on it, his antenna giving an interested flick.

"Came to check on you, make sure ya weren't worn out." 

Bashfully, First Aid started smoothing down the blankets he'd huddled under before his warm frame had become smothered for something to do. He could surely coax Whirl away gently before he did something impulsive; that was the flyer's job, not his.

He waved a hand dismissively, clearing his intake.

"No, no, just… hoping it'll pass soon. Did Ratchet tell you?"

"Oh, heh, no he didn't. I guessed. Not in work and not in Swerve's and not recharging 'cause you replied to my ping from earlier so…"

Whirl clacked his claws in that way he did when he was a little unsure. He was starting to feel the effects of having First Aid so close and he had to push his own impulsive thoughts from his processor roughly. 

_ Pin him, wreck him. _

First Aid hadn't moved much other than to continue to smooth the sheets with another sigh. 

"Yeah I… yeah." 

"I would have offered my services," Whirl would have grinned if he could, "I like to think they're satisfactory."

Unable to hold back a snort of a laugh, First Aid shook his helm, declining the offer and _ amusement _ flickering in his field by the other mech's antics. 

"They are but…" 

Whirl's gaze was fixed on where First Aid was bent over the berth. The flames of lust ignited in him as he thought about pressing their frames together and he knew it wouldn't be long before his processor was too foggy to process much of anything. He managed to drag a word from the small corner of his processor that wasn't firing on feral instinct. 

"But?" 

What was First Aid supposed to say? _ I have feelings for you, all this spending time together is driving me to distraction? _He was worried whatever he said Whirl would find inflammatory and he didn't want to cause any harm, that was his purpose for life after all. Cause no harm.

"But… I can manage. Thanks." 

Even though First Aid's tone was soft like it usually was when he was speaking to Whirl, the words cut into him. He knew it was his wayward, impulsive processor and his sensitive spark when it involved those he cared about making him feel the way he was, but he took it badly. He narrowed his optic and bristled his own plates in offense, the clatter of them surprising First Aid. He turned and Whirl was thrown by that vulnerability in him again. His vocaliser fizzed with static, words wanting to come out but failing. 

Instead, First Aid managed to defuse that side of him. 

"...did I _ offend _ you?" 

There was the usual medic he was used to dealing with; grinning in that smug kind of way, _ slagger_. Whirl clamped his claws and barked out a hard laugh, submitting to the charm that captivated him so.

"Heh, no, of course not. Go fuck yourself then, see if I care." 

He rose his helm defiantly, the burning words were doused by the apparent fondness in the way First Aid had addressed him. _ He didn't mean it. _

"...alright, maybe I will." 

Whirl's spark stuttered. _ Did he mean that? _

Without another word, First Aid seated himself on the edge of the berth, leaning back on one hand and trailing an overly sensitive one down his frame with a soft moan. He shuttered his optics as jolts of pleasure shot through him from the warmth of his frame against his digits. He was still grinning a little as he felt the shiver of _ excitement _ from the other mech. He knew he was teasing, especially as he clicked back his panel to reveal his slick valve and slid two digits straight in with a lewd moan. 

Whirl shivered. _ Fuck him._ _Literally. _

He perched next to First Aid on the berth, intoxicated by him for a moment. Now he knew it was safe, tucked away in the confines where no one else could feel it, Whirl let his field go. 

First Aid's optics onlined quickly at all of the emotions he was being subjected to and he snapped his helm up but Whirl had his claws delicately held against his neck cables. He let slip another moan. 

"Heh, two can play this game." 

He increased the pressure, just a little. First Aid gasped desperately as he began to move his hand but another claw caught hold of his wrist and the medic bucked at the touch to his sensitive appendage. 

"_Whirl_-" 

"Nuh-uh, _ you _ listen to me, ya hear?" Whirl nuzzled against his warm cheek, "you do exactly as I say, Aidy, and then maybe heh, maybe I'll give you a nice, good spiking." 

"F-fuck…" 

First Aid's vents were huffing as he tried to keep some semblance of control over himself but that was hard with the gruff vocals down his audial and that delicious almost pain against delicate wiring. He bristled his plates again and rebooted his vocaliser. 

"Whirl, please, I'm so _ desperate_…" 

"Show me. Show me how desperate you are and then maybe I'll take _ pity _ on you, medic." 

Whirl urged him to move his hand by giving his wrist a tug and First Aid needed no more encouragement. He started to thrust two digits into his dripping valve, a shaky gasp or sigh escaping him every time he filled himself. It wasn't enough, even as he shuddered his way through an overload, he knew he needed more. So did Whirl. 

"Just _ two _ digits? I've seen you take more than that. Fill that needy little valve, _ stretch _ it, I wanna see lubricant down your _ thighs_." 

First Aid's vocaliser descended into static as he slipped another digit in and Whirl took his claw away from his wrist to draw the tip along the underneath of his wet spike. He brought it up to First Aid's lips and he hungrily swept his glossa over Whirl's claw, keeping optic contact as he did. That _ almost _ broke the ex-Wrecker. 

"Ah fuck, you look so good desperate for a fuck." 

Whirl let his own panel slip open and First Aid started pleading; a sound _ so _ good to Whirl's audials. 

"Ah Whirl, please, _ please…_" 

With a soft laugh, Whirl nuzzled against First Aid again, looking to where his digits were disappearing into his valve almost in a blur. He turned his helm to brush his lips over Whirl's pedipalps as his frame shivered and his fans whirred as another overload began to creep up on him. The dark mech let out a soft rumble of approval and that was more than enough to send First Aid crashing down into pleasure, moaning loudly and twitching against where he was now leaning heavily into Whirl. 

Taking pity on him, Whirl took his claw from around his neck and slipped his arm around his back to take some of his weight. Even though First Aid's frame was tired from two overloads, his heat wasn't giving in. 

"Mm, you look so pretty a blissed out mess, guess you don't need my talents after all." 

"Oh shit, no," First Aid managed a small laugh, "d-don't do that to me you slagger." 

With a soft chuckle of amusement, Whirl pressed his forehelm against First Aid's and let out a shaky huff from his vents. 

"What can I say? I like seeing a mech _ helpless_." 

First Aid rumbled a soft laugh and started to press kisses against the side of Whirl's helm where he knew there were at least some sensors left and with a little shiver, he relaxed against the touch. 

He found it hard to be touched, everyone knew that. Touch had hardly ever been kind to Whirl but with this medic, he could try and override where his HUD flashed with warnings that his receptors were activated. It was hard, but it was getting easier, more than easier. He _ enjoyed _ it and it had been a long time since Whirl could say he'd enjoyed something that wasn't violent.

Gently, First Aid nudged him to lay back and Whirl shifted as he saw where this was going. He sunk himself down onto Whirl's spike in one foul swoop and he dismissed the warnings, letting in the pleasure instead. 

"Ah _ fuck, _you're so wet…" 

But First Aid couldn't give him any kind of response. He was concentrating on one thing and that was the way his heat had finally faded a little. This is what he needed, Whirl was what he needed. 

With reckless abandon, First Aid rode Whirl through two intense overloads, his moans rising in crescendo with each one and the mech underneath him was clawing desperately against his hips as an overload crept up on him too. He bucked up into First Aid and tipped his helm back as the red and white mech used his sensitive hands to tease seams beneath his cockpit, sending him crashing.

They both lay panting before Whirl onlined his optic with a laugh. First Aid tilted his helm and gently took his claws into his hands. 

"What?" 

"You think I'm done with you? Nah, no way medic, you're _ mine _ and I plan to fuck you into the berth until you can't use that sass on me." But First Aid had gone quiet, contemplative. That voice rose up in Whirl again, the one fuelled by years of pain. _ He doesn't want you_. _ It's a funny joke. Ha fucking ha. _

Just as he was about to throw First Aid off him, angry at himself for allowing himself to be hurt, he was caught by surprise. 

"Yeah, I think I am." 

He opened up his own field and Whirl was surprised to feel the same emotions he'd let linger in return.

_ Lust. Excitement. _ ** _Love_**_. _

"Oh. Heh. That?" 

"Yeah, _ that._" 

First Aid leaned forward so they could press their helms against each other again before he squeezed his valve around Whirl's spike. His groan tapered off into a laugh and he rolled his hips up into First Aid who grinned at him, apparently not sassed out yet.

"Two can play that game right?" 

Rumbling a moan, he shoved First Aid off his hips and clambered right on top of him, hilting his spike. As the moans escaped his conjunx, Whirl chuckled. 

"You can still do what I say, _ medic_." 


	11. Deadlock/Hot Rod NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't mind me, just writing porn for my conjunx 💜
> 
> Roddy gets tied up and fucked by Deadlock, that's about it really 😄

How he'd ended up this way, Hot Rod wasn't entirely sure. His processor was pretty fuzzy from all of the pleasure coursing through his frame and he knew that he'd said yes, Primus, he'd _ begged _yes at the proposition but still he was finding it hard to believe.

Tied to a berth, in an old apartment with Deadlock's spike in his mouth. His valve was cycling down madly onto nothing and his spike throbbed for any sort of touch. He was so tightly bound to each bed post by his ankles and wrists that he couldn't even buck up desperately against nothing. 

The way that the bigger mech was cradling his cheek gently as he thrust his spike down his intake was driving him wild but even better than that were the sounds. Deadlock made the _ best _ sounds; deep growls and soft gasps and a guttural roar as he overloaded. 

Hot Rod wanted that _ so _ badly.

"What was that?" 

Painstakingly, Deadlock withdrew his huge, slick and heavily modded spike from the other speedster's mouth, narrowing his optics even as his field throbbed with _ lust _ and _ comfort_. He bent his helm a little lower so he could hear what he knew would be a fizzy admittance.

"...I want… want to taste you…" he panted, gazing up with those brilliant blue optics, "_p__lease Deadlock _." 

Even as the words sent a shiver down his backstrut, the Decepticon didn't show it. Instead he narrowed his optics even more and rubbed his spike against Hot Rod's lips, the other mech moaning shakily as he tried to capture it back into his mouth. 

"You want my transfluid in your mouth do you? Oh, that would be a shame, I was going to fill your pretty little valve with this big knot instead." 

Hot Rod whimpered as said modification was rubbed over his mouth. Deadlock grinned as his field gave another pulse of _ comfort_.

"You love being filled, don't you? Is that why when I asked you to follow me you did so without question? Because you can't get enough of being _ stretched _ and _ praised _ as you take my spike like a good little mech?" 

The flame coloured mech was visibly trembling. He wanted his vocaliser to work but it seemed as though it had cut out on him, only able to make frantic sounds of need as he pulled on his restraints. 

Deadlock pulled his spike away from Hot Rod's mouth and he sobbed softly, his optics pleading whilst his vocals couldn't. That made Deadlock tremble too. Hot Rod spread, ready, waiting. He knew as soon as he even touched his valve he would explode with furious pleas even as he overloaded again and again but this time he wanted him to learn a lesson. 

With a grin, Deadlock kissed Hot Rod, nipping his lip as he reached inside of his subspace to pull something out. 

"Open your wrist port."

It was a command, the hissed _ or you won't get to overload _kind and Hot Rod obeyed immediately, his field quivering with excitement. Poor mech, he had no idea what he was getting into. 

So very gently, Deadlock plugged in the overload inhibitor and watched as realisation dawned on Hot Rod. He trusted him, apparently implicitly, and the begging that ensued almost broke his resolve. _ Almost._

"Nononono! Deadlock, no, _ please, _I need to overload! _ Please_!" 

"Oh, you will…" slowly he moved to wriggle between the other mech's legs with a sly smile, "...when I want you to." 

Hot Rod broke into another round of pleading and begging until Deadlock steadily hilted himself into his valve, knot and all. Silently screaming, Hot Rod tipped his head back and his whole body shuddered as it went white hot with pleasure, the inhibitor stopping him tipping over into an overload. When his vocaliser finally came back online it was a babble of imploring nonsense.

"_OhshitohshitfuckohfuckDeadlockpleasepleasepleaseohshit-!_"

Deadlock merely grinned. He had his prey and he'd have his play time before he swept in for the final pounce. 

He rocked his hips deeply, his own low moans washing over the squeals from his lover. He overloaded once then picked up the pace, watching his spike slip in and out of Hot Rod's stretched valve as their hips and thighs became even more dripping with lubricant. 

"What a good mech, taking all that spike-" 

"_Pleaseohfuckplease-!"_

"Does it feel good Hot Rod? Being 'faced by a big, scary Decepticon? Being at his _ mercy _?" 

"_PleaseDeadlockpleasepleaseplease-!_"

"Mm, that's it, fight against it, I love watching you writhe." 

Hot Rod was doing just that. He was arching and bucking and chasing the pleasure that was just out of his reach. It was like he was running to catch his overload but he wasn't ever gaining on it as wave after wave after wave of pleasure tore through him. His whole frame was quivering as his fans roared and his plates bristled to dispel the heat rising with every delicious, tantalising thrust from Deadlock.

With another impending overload, the dark coloured mech's movements became more frenzied and impassioned. Whilst his expression was twisted into a snarl his field hummed with _ affection _ and _ trust _ and _ safety _. Hot Rod clumsily reached back with each feeling even as tears ran down his face from pure desperation. 

"Deadlock ** _please_**."

Even as rough as he was pounding into Hot Rod, he was gentle as he released the inhibitor and then he crashed hard into a long, spectacular overload with a loud growl. 

Hot Rod on the other hand, felt like he was floating. The waves of pleasure crashing over him were suddenly lifting him into a state of pure bliss as every part of his frame, every sensor hummed with delight. He wasn't even sure if he was making any noise as he tipped his helm back and screamed, his valve clenching down tightly and his spike splashing his midsection with transfluid.

He didn't know anything but ecstasy until he blacked out. 

When he came to, he was cradled against another frame. He couldn't online his optics, nope, no way, too tired for that. His vocaliser was pretty hoarse as he tried to speak. 

A soft hush was pressed against his audial. 

He registered the warmth of the other mech's field, wrapped up in _ love _ as he nuzzled into Deadlock's chest. 

"Am… am I a good mech?" 

He finally managed to fizz out. In answer there was a soft chuckle and a kiss brushed against his cheek. 

"The best. Rest now, I have you."

It wasn't a command but Hot Rod obeyed anyway.


	12. Drift/Ratchet NSFW for the Dratchet server 💙

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to write some porn for some lovely people who are always supportive of my work and love some Dratchet filth so here you go 😄

It had all started off innocently enough, just a few drinks in Swerve's, but Ratchet should have known that when it came to Drift, there was always some kind of hot mischief around the corner. 

After two drinks, everyone was just a little giggly and after five, there was some silliness. It was as the group edged towards drink number ten that the conversation steered towards interfacing. 

"Well," Rodimus placed his palms down onto the table, wriggling not so innocently in Thunderclash's lap, "_some _ of us have been around the block more than others, _ right Drift?_"

The named mech narrowed his optics at his amica, incriminating himself by flicking them across to where Perceptor was sat at the other end of the booth with a fluttery seeker on his lap. Brainstorm giggled ridiculously and nuzzled against his conjunx's neck. 

"Percy! Rodders means you and Drift-"

He was cut short by a firm hand over his bare face. Even intoxicated, Perceptor was _ sensible. _

With a waggle of his optics ridges, Rodimus looked between the pair, a huge grin on his face. He knew all too well about some of the things that Drift and Perceptor had gotten up to from hushed, sleepy conversations curled up in a berth. Beside Drift, Ratchet tilted his helm with intrigue as he drank. 

_ -What does he mean by that?- _

As soon as he received the ping, Drift groaned under his vents and concocted a plan to get Rodimus back whilst also letting Ratchet into a little secret. 

"Well, I might like a little bit of bondage, but at least I never melted a desk from being bent over it." 

With a wry grin at his best friend, the group erupted into raucous laughter and cheers whilst Rodimus pouted and most definitely didn't wriggle at all on purpose against Thunderclash. 

Everyone except Ratchet that was. The medic had barely even lifted his drink again when he'd frozen at the thought. _ Drift and bondage? _

He quickly put down the glass as the thought began to make his sensitive hands tingle and he cleared his intake softly. Drift had noticed Ratchet's shift in aura even if he seemed steady on the surface but he didn't want to draw attention so he sent a ping, slipping a hand onto his partner's thigh. 

_ -Are you okay?- _

_ -Fine. Another drink?- _

But before Drift could answer, Ratchet was up and out of the booth, his mind racing at the thought that he couldn't lever out. His plates bristled and his panel grew warm. He wasn't very good at admitting to some of the things that he had only explored about his and Drift's intimate relationship in his processor whilst self servicing but now all he could think of was one of those exact moments. 

As he made his way to the bar, he glanced back to see his conjunx was occupied by flirting with Rodimus across the table once again so the lusty mech slipped from the room and down to their habsuite, desperately seeking the shower to cool himself. 

As the solvent pattered down over his frame, he couldn't force away the ache behind his panel, the emptiness of his valve and with a soft moan, he clicked it back and dove two digits between his legs. With an even louder moan, he frantically thrust into his slick valve, imaging just exactly how Drift would look, looming over him whilst Ratchet was tied up and helpless, begging to overload whilst he was teased. The thought of Drift's spike just out of reach and then the other mech taking a digit into his mouth with a lewd moan as he sucked hard and- 

"Oh fuck! _ Fuck_!" 

Ratchet trembled through his overload, leaning back against the shower wall as his valve cycled down onto his delicate digits, pleasure coursing through every part of him until he went limp. 

As he let the cool solvent wash away the heat and the lubricant from himself, he decided he'd pluck up the courage to tell Drift about one of his most wished for desires. It was just that Ratchet wasn't very good at opening up…

* * *

Two weeks passed. Two long weeks of Ratchet finding his processor wandering, at work, when he was trying to recharge, when he and Drift were interfacing. There were more than a few times that he found some quiet, alone time and would try to fight the urge to explore his frame whilst he thought of being at Drift's mercy and inevitably his valve would end up full and his spike would be stroked until he splashed transfluid all over his chest. 

The last straw was when he came back into his habsuite after going to grab some energon and found Drift doing some very interesting stretches on his meditation mat. His processor immediately went to that place, filled with erotic scenarios and he knew he couldn't take much more.

Ratchet cleared his intake softly, trying to ignore the tingle behind his panel.

From where he was in a backward bridge pose, Drift tipped his helm back and grinned at the intrusion. 

"_Ratty, _I see that look in your optics." 

Deftly, Drift got himself into a sitting pose and tilted his helm, frowning a little as he examined the other colours in the aura in front of him.

"That little hint of grey has been following you for weeks though..." 

With a soft sigh, Ratchet placed the cubes down on the desk and then leaned against it, arms crossed over his chest as he dashed his gaze down, feeling sheepish as he knew his secret would be spilled.

"...so why didn't you ask me sooner?" 

"Because I know you, if I push, you won't talk. It's not something _ big _ but… yeah." 

Ratchet laughed at himself softly and then palmed at his face. 

"No it's not… it's just something silly." 

"It's never silly if it's bothering you." 

Ratchet laughed again purely out of nerves. Dropping his hand away from his face, he looked over at where he knew the door was closed but checking all the same anyway. He didn't want anyone else to hear his admission.

"...you remember that conversation at Swerve's..." 

Now Drift was even more interested, tilting his head even further as he listened patiently.

"The one about how Swerve got his helm stuck- oh wait! No, the other one, about 'facing?" 

"Mmhm. It just… had me wondering why we hadn't ever really… tried certain things." 

Drift grinned. Oh, _ now _he got it. 

Slowly, he got himself to his feet and flicked his gaze appreciatively over his berthmate, a hunger suddenly taking hold of him and it glinted in his optics as he stepped forward. 

"Oh. _ Oh Ratty_… it's been bothering you for this long? I did think sometimes you were a little longer in the shower recently…" 

Catching his lip between his denta, the speedster stopped just a few inches away, their frames not touching but Drift could feel the heat from Ratchet. He knew he liked that voice, the slightly dominant one that usually tipped him over the edge with a husky _ overload for me _ but he didn't realise quite how much. 

Ratchet was looking bewildered and bashful as he gripped the desk behind him. His fans had already clicked on lowly and he was doing his own appreciating of his sleek, handsome conjunx. Even so, he wasn't dumbstruck enough to not throw banter back, at least not yet. 

"And it's a pity you didn't join me, hm?"

"Well, I do love seeing you stroke that spike of yours," he grinned cheekily, "why don't you lay on the berth and show me?" 

Ratchet laughed again but it quickly turned into a muffled moan as Drift gently traced a digit into an armour seam in his hip, still staring at him with those deep optics that saw all. The pink blush of _ love, _ the red hot flames of _ lust,_ the cloud of grey from _ worry. _

He smiled tenderly for a moment, cupping his face.

"...we can take it at whatever pace you want, you know that right?" 

"Of course I do." Ratchet nodded, optics resting on the berth, "you're always attentive and caring." 

Drift grinned as he pressed himself against Ratchet, nuzzling into his neck cables and giving them a little nip. The reaction was immediate, Ratchet tipping his helm back to moan softly. 

"But I think you want to see my _ mean _ side…" 

The medic shuddered at the bite and the vocals enchanting him. With a few walls still up, he nodded against the other mech and slipped out of his grasp to lay on the berth. 

Under Drift's watchful gaze, he got himself comfortable and opened his panel, giving his thick spike a few long strokes as he did. 

Moving over to kneel between Ratchet's open legs, Drift murmured as he saw the wet lips of his valve, resisting the urge to taste his sweetness and instead focused on his task; seeing just how quickly he could get Ratchet to overload without even touching him. 

"So what was it about that conversation that got you so revved up? Just the thought of interfacing or… me and Percy using restraints?" 

Seeing the look flash across Ratchet's face briefly as he continued to stroke himself, watching Drift intently as he did, the speedster took his teasing a step further.

"Ah. Yeah, well, I never told you how much we enjoyed using restraints did I? But… Percy used to tie _ me _ up, tease me, not let me overload, but… I'm not mean like that Ratty, I _ want _ you to overload," Drift purred, "I love watching you writhe and moan." 

"Drift…" 

Ratchet laughed softly, just a little embarrassed at how wound up he was, and took his hand away. Firmly, Drift put Ratchet's hand back on his spike and clicked his own panel back, a wry grin on his face as he watched his lover's optics drop. 

"Not until you overload, that's what I want to see." 

After a moment, Ratchet began to stroke himself again, quickly losing his resolve as he looked between Drift's spike and his face, that wicked little grin goading him on. Pleasure began to tingle through his frame and his vents started to come in hot huffs but Drift wanted more. 

"Don't hold back on me, moan for me Ratty, come on, I know you're thinking about where I'm going to put my spike, and, well, I'm thinking _ everywhere_-" 

"Drift, oh fuck-" 

"That's it, come on, overload Ratty, it feels so good doesn't it? Don't you _ love _being told what to do…?" 

Tipping his helm back, Ratchet finally let his overload crash over him, stroking his spike as transfluid coated his midsection, moaning and bucking wildly. Before he could even really catch his vents, Drift was gently taking his hands and as he blinked through the fog of a hazy processor, he realised exactly what was about to happen. He moaned and bucked once more. 

"Good mech, I'll take care of you, don't you worry…"

His vocals were fizzy, "Drift… we don't have to do this now…" 

Drift paused then looked back to where Ratchet had tilted his helm back to look at him as they talked. Not only did the look on his face say it all but the throbbing of _ lust _ was unmistakable; the mech who prided himself on having such a tight grip on his field had totally lost control of it, his walls had come crashing down in a frenzy of need.

Leaning down to murmur right down Ratchet's audial, gently he tightened the rope around his wrists. 

"Oh no, of course not, Ratty, of course we don't have to… but do you want to?" 

"I do but-"

Ratchet's vocals dissolved into a bitten back moan as Drift nibbled the back of one of his bound hands, making the medic writhe needily.

"But?"

"But… but… fuck it, I don't know, please don't tease, _ please..._" 

Running a hand over Ratchet's helm soothingly, Drift made soft hushing noises, but his vocals were tinged with excitement and amusement. 

"You can overload as much as you want to, okay?" He kissed his chevron, "don't hold back on me." 

With an excited and also slightly apprehensive shudder, Ratchet tried to calm his vents as Drift tied his legs comfortably spread apart, adjusting and asking as he went. When he was sure that Ratchet was comfortable and okay, he kneeled between his legs and grinned.

"Now what to do with you?" 

"Whatever you want." 

Ratchet's vocals quivered a little and Drift wasn't sure if it was nerves or excitement so he pressed his frame tightly against his conjunx's and gave him a slow, lingering kiss, cupping his face gently in one hand whilst the other traced armour seams slowly. Ratchet moaned into the kiss and then he suddenly arched as he felt Drift's spike ease into him. 

Not pulling away, Drift continued to kiss Ratchet as he slowly thrust up into him, wanting to coax him into a more gentle overload. 

"Oh Ratty, you feel _ so _ good, _ so _slick. Does it feel good?"

Lost in his pleasure, all Ratchet could do was nod as his overload began to creep up on him, a blanket of _ love _ and _ need _washing over him from Drift's field. He pulled on his bound wrists, his moans rising in crescendo until he was teetering on the edge of his overload. 

"That's it Ratty, oh yeah, that's it, you look _ so _ good writhing under me," he moaned heavily, "oh holy… I'm going to overload, is that what you want, to be filled up?"

Drift's answer was Ratchet arching up into his frame as he crashed down into bliss, a desperate cacophony of noises escaping him. The speedster joined in as he overloaded too, burying his face into his lover's shoulder as he did. 

When they were both a little more recovered, Drift lifted his helm and began a more frantic pace, watching the other mech's reaction intently. Ratchet onlined his optics, mouth open in a silent moan, and his already oversensitive valve cycled down hard, wanting to draw the pleasure out even more.

With a sly smile, Drift began to draw his denta over Ratchet's chest plating, coaxing even more noise from the white mech until he was shaking his way through another overload but still, he didn't give up on pleasing Ratchet. 

He reached down to stroke his conjunx's spike as he thrust hard, moaning softly with every movement whilst the other mech was a writhing mess. His helm was tipped back as his frame shook, his fans roaring and his vocaliser was an incoherent fuzz of swear words and moans. 

"F-fuck! Oh fuck!" 

"Overload again," the vocals were much more firm this time, "I told you not to hold back." 

With a loud cry out, Ratchet did exactly that, trembling and bucking and straining against his bonds. 

Blinking his optics back online after a few minutes, Ratchet peered up at where Drift was kneeling to his side, a wicked grin on his face. He was slightly dazed from several intense overloads and he couldn't quite get his processor to connect to the feeling. 

Then it suddenly hit him. 

He keened heavily, pulling on the rope securing his wrists as he spiralled down into pleasure once again. The tingle from the vibrators tucked into the ropes bound across his palms was travelling the whole way down to his array, his spike once again pressurised and dripping with transfluid.

"D-Drift, oh fuck, no no no, I can't-" 

He was cut off as Drift turned the vibrators off and leaned down to nuzzle against his audial.

"I thought this is what you wanted, _ to overload all tied up..._"

He flicked the toys back on then off again, the medic arching himself off the bed as much as he could. His field pulsed clumsily with _ need _ and _ lust _ and _ desperation _ as his vocaliser gave up being able to do anything but cry out with every zap of pleasure. 

"I'll untie you then shall I?" 

As Drift brushed his hands over the oversensitive ones, Ratchet cried out again, shaking his helm avidly. He bucked his hips again, his spike aching for something, _ anything _.

"Oh. I get it." Drift teased, "you want me to ride you?" 

"Y-yes, Drift, p-please-"

Trailing off into a loud groan as the vibrators were turned back on full power, Ratchet didn't even get a chance to catch his vents before Drift seated himself straight down onto his spike in one foul swoop. Foolishly, he onlined his optics to watch.

The medic trembled as he was hit by his biggest overload yet, Drift drawing it out by rocking his hips and squeezing his valve around Ratchet tightly. With a shaky moan, the other mech laughed slightly and shook his head.

"D-Drift… m'done…" 

"Oh no you're not." Drift lifted himself up and then slammed himself back down with a loud moan, "not until I am." 

Ratchet was hit by overload after overload as Drift rode him, his tight, wet valve cycling down as he rocked and rolled and lifted his hips. He traced his digits across Ratchet's chest and into armour seams across his midsection, throwing his helm back and crying out as his overload crept up. 

"Oh Ratty, you feel _ so _ good, come on, one last overload for me, _ please _ overload for me…" 

That was all the encouragement needed. The medic began to gasp and tremble and then suddenly he knew nothing but a wave of pure ecstasy and Drift's loud cries as he bucked up, his transfluid spilling out of his lover's already full valve. 

They both lay panting, Drift flopped down on top of Ratchet as their pleasure ebbed away.

Still, they both remembered their manners in their frazzled states.

"Are you alright-?"

"You okay kid-?" 

Huffing a soft laugh, they both sighed contentedly before Drift shifted to untie Ratchet's wrists carefully, gently rubbing thumbs over them to ensure he wasn't sore. 

"Not what I had in mind."

"Hm?" 

"Well…" Ratchet's cheeks flushed, "I was going to offer to… tie _ you _up." 

"Oh? Do you like that idea? Making me overload over and over?" 

As soon as his wrists were free, Ratchet grabbed a hold of Drift's hips and leaned up to nip his chest, drawing a hiss from the other mech. 

"Oh no, I'm not as nice as you, I'd want to hear you beg."

Drift shivered at the words, his valve clenching around Ratchet's spike involuntarily and as he took in the mischievous twinkle in the blue optics looking back, he decided that he would definitely not be saying no to that.

"Oh Ratty, you know how to treat a mech don't you?" Drift grinned, rolling his hips slowly, "how about a nap then you can be mean to me?" 

Ratchet flashed a loving smile, "sounds perfect, as perfect as you." 

"Oh, ew, _ no_, I like you mean, not sappy." 

With a soft chuckle at Drift, Ratchet stretched his wrists out and watched as his legs were untied. He'd managed to confess his own need for submission but now he had a chance to put Drift in that position and his hands tingled at the thought even as his weary frame started to urge him into recharge.


	13. *SPOILERS* Ratchet: War for Cybertron Siege

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please don't read any further unless you want some light spoilers for War for Cybertron: Siege. 
> 
> What exactly lead Ratchet to changing his mind? Well, I decided to write what I think 😊

Ratchet looked down at his hands. The metaphorical blood on them made him clench them tightly and offline his optics so he didn't have to think about the countless lives, the endless snuffed sparks, the dimmed optics that flicked off to black. 

How could he have used such a gift for nothing but pain and suffering and grief? How could such _ clever _ hands be swayed towards something so unproductive? 

He onlined his gaze over to his patient. The mech's vents were steady but there was a soft wheeze. The badly battered frame was dented and scratched and scraped. One of his finials had been bent but Ratchet had straightened it carefully if a little reluctantly and he had tenderly wiped off the energon from his face. 

Beaten and left for dead, probably by one of his very own weapons. His spark shuddered at the thought. 

This was his doing, his burden to carry but what if those hands could fix? What if they could heal and help and maybe, just maybe, they could start to erase some of his past? What if he could make up for some of his mistakes? Of course his chest would always ache terribly with the guilt and his processor would flash with the unseen worst scenarios; mecha with holes instead of helms, appendages laying in a puddle of pink, the awful echoed screams of the dying. It was too late for him, condemned to his fate, imprisoned by his past but for mechs like the one in front of him, they could have a second chance. 

Glancing around at the empty underground haven he had found, he imagined he could engineer some lights to brighten the gloom, that was his title after all, and maybe he could make it somewhere safe for others who needed a healing touch. 

He almost scoffed at himself. He was no medic, he was no saviour, he was a murderer with a heavy conscience. 

As he crossed his arms with a soft sigh, stretching his legs out in front of him from where he was sat on the floor, the mech on the makeshift medical berth, merely a blanket to offset the chill, flickered his golden optics onlined and gasped, digits searching for the crater that was his dented chest but instead he felt smoother plating, not perfect, but now he could vent without feeling like he was being crushed. 

"Hey kid, how you feeling?" 

The speedster turned his helm and blinked at the mech who had swooped down to save him from the alleyway he'd been discarded in. His mouth dropped open for a few moments before his vocaliser kicked in.

"I'm… I'm alive?" 

"Mmhm."

Then Ratchet was given something he felt he didn't deserve. 

"Thank you, you saved my life." 

He wanted to shake his helm, brush off the gratitude but there was something in the young mech's optics as he stared at him and the sincerity in his vocals that made him feel fuzzy, made him feel _ good_. 

"Welcome." He grumbled, turning his gaze away, "what's your name?" 

"Drift." 

By the time he'd sent the white mech on his way after a few days of recuperation, Ratchet had done a lot of pondering. Making up his mind, he grabbed some supplies, shoved them in his subspace and started out to find more walking wounded, more sparks to reignite, more souls to save. 


	14. Simpatico NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I always wondered how Brainstorm would react upon seeing a post Wreckers, hunky Percy so I wrote it! Obviously heads up for smut, because who wouldn't take Percy to bed? ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!! Once again I apologise for being an awful reader/writer/replyer of comments, I am just going to say having my two children at home for six months has made me less productive due to home schooling but now they're back at school, expect to see me around more! 
> 
> I've also set up a Ko-Fi and am happy to take commissions if there is anything you would like for me to write for you in exchange for some pennies :D
> 
> https://ko-fi.com/mamacake

It had been a rough day. One of those hit the alcohol and forget about it days, one of those forget it ever happened days and Brainstorm was glad to slip into the bar. Maybe if he was lucky, there would be a conquest at the end of it; he had prettied himself up after work in the hopes of that happening after all.

It was pretty busy, the steady hum of conversation hitting him as he opened the door, perhaps a party from the several laughs and shouts from the crowd by the jukebox, not that the Vosian himself had anything to celebrate. Chromedome had said he was busy, probably doing that awkward _ I like Rewind but I'm not going to tell him _ hanging out with said man. He huffed a laugh to himself; everyone could see how they were meant to be. 

Taking a seat then signalling to the bartender that he wanted his usual, Brainstorm downed the first drink then took it a little easier with the second. He hadn't yet had a good look around the bar for someone to forget his day with, he just wanted to message his best friend to check in first, but apparently his conquest was going to be the one seeking him out instead. 

Someone threw themselves over the bar beside him rather animatedly, startling Brainstorm so much he nearly dropped his phone. As he snapped up his head to give them a mouthful, he realised he wasn't going to be able to and instead rolled his eyes playfully as he finished sending his message.

"Hey! Mac! A whole new round yeah?!" 

Rodimus shouted across the bar, grinning madly as he slapped his palms down. He was apparently more than two drinks down by his flushed cheeks and tousled hair. Slipping his phone back into his pocket, the blonde gently bumped his shoulder against the man beside him to get his attention with a big grin.

"Rodders! Didn't know you were back in town?" 

With a squeak, the redhead blinked at his old college friend before flinging his arms around him with a shout of _ Stormy_!

"Yeah yeah, nice to see you too," he hugged Rodimus back enthusiastically, "Drift here too?" 

"Yeah! Celebrating Kup's fucking, I dunno, 200 year birthday. Seriously how old is he?!"

Brainstorm was about to laugh and retort when his gaze drifted to where there was movement behind Rodimus; his breath hitching. Drift was pushing his way through the crowd, smiling as he caught the other man's eyes but Brainstorm was captivated by who was following behind.

"Hey Stormy, we came to help Roddy before he drank everything."

"Hey!" 

But the blonde could only lift his hand in greeting at Drift, his eyes fixed on the taller man behind. He was _ different_, muscular and older, just a hint of lines brushing his forehead from the amount of time he spent frowning but he'd recognise those eyes and that small smile anywhere.

"Brainstorm?" Perceptor asked in his soft, sweet lilt, eyebrows raised in surprise, "how nice to see you."

"Percy. Hey." 

He cursed himself for the wobble in his voice and nervously ran a hand through his peroxide, untameable hair, flashing an over confident grin. He didn't catch the look between Rodimus and Drift that the couple exchanged, a knowing _ here we go _ whilst they waited for their drinks tray to get loaded up.

"It's been a little while." 

"Yeah. It has." 

A look of guilt passed Perceptor's features as he regarded his ex flame. He had broken them up, thinking it was for the best with the opposite directions they were taking and Brainstorm still grieving for Quark. Seeing him now though had caused an avalanche of emotions to come crashing down and with a nervous clearing of his throat as their eyes stayed fixed on one another, he gestured at the bar. 

"...could I perhaps get you a drink?" 

With two trays balancing perfectly on his hands and a wobbly Rodimus on his elbow, Drift flashed a grin at his friend and sometimes lover. 

"It's on my tab Percy, just grab whatever you two want. Roddy, come on, you need guiding back," he brushed past Perceptor closely to mumble quietly, "_guess_ _we won't be seeing you later._"

Warmth spread across the fellow Wreckers' cheeks and Rodimus gave him a cheeky wink as he slipped past too, giggling loudly as he and his conjunx disappeared into the throng, leaving Perceptor to the mercy of his feelings and slightly impaired judgement after Kup had told him _ it's my fuckin' birthday, ya can do as I fuckin' say _before plying him with several strong drinks.

With a tight smile, Brainstorm nodded at the bar stool beside him. 

"I don't bite, honest." 

Looking back over his shoulder at the party he was thinking of retiring from anyway soon, Perceptor took the seat and neatly folded his hands into his lap. It was now or never, sooner rather than later, and he knew all too well that life was short and he had to take what he was offered. With one last look over at the other man, he waited patiently to order a couple of drinks. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Brainstorm took in Perceptor more closely. He had a smart, short sleeve shirt on, taut across his muscular chest and arms, and chinos; as well dressed as ever. His hair was neatly trimmed short and his glasses only amplified the brightness of his blue eyes. 

In his leggings and oversized t-shirt, Brainstorm felt more than a little underdressed. At least he'd bothered with his hair and makeup, thank Primus. 

"Still wearing that faithful jacket of yours I see." 

The blonde couldn't help but grin, stretching himself out straight as he looked down at his turquoise denim jacket. It was patchy in places where he'd grown impatient with the dyeing process, and he'd had to sew several patches back on over the years but he still had the hole near the cuff where he'd reached over a bunsen burner in college, much to a younger Perceptor's disdain and panic. 

Two drinks were placed down in front of them and Perceptor nodded a thanks to the bar staff. 

"Heh, yeah. Can't drag me out of it." 

Just as Brainstorm put his drink to his mouth, Perceptor made a remark that caused him to bang down the glass in surprise.

"Well, I know that isn't true as I used to manage."

"Perce!" There was shock alongside the laughter, "you've definitely been drinking, you _ minx_." 

With a little twinkle in his eye, Perceptor turned on the bar stool and downed his whole drink. The alcohol had definitely given him some bravado and he didn't waste any time in standing and propositioning Brainstorm.

"It doesn't matter how many drinks I've had, I know someone gorgeous when I see them." He held out a hand, "coming?" 

Brainstorm grinned, "not yet, but I'm sure you'll change that." 

* * *

"Oh fuck! Oh fuck Percy, I'm gonna come!" 

Brainstorm was pinned face down on his bed in his flat whilst Perceptor thrust into him from behind. His hands were restrained flat against the bed by his lover's intertwined with his, Perceptor's now muscular body making an easy job of keeping the Vosian from bucking and writhing so much underneath him. He moaned softly against Brainstorm's shoulder, causing the other to orgasm once again loudly. 

"Fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!" 

At all of the encouraging noise, Perceptor came too, rocking his hips deeply into Brainstorm with a low moan.

As they both collapsed, panting and spent by the ferocity of their love making, Brainstorm wondered if maybe it was all a dream; he hadn't felt so good in a long time. Almost like he knew what the other man was thinking, Perceptor lay a tender kiss against his shoulder, in apology for where he'd sunk in his teeth. 

"Brainstorm? Are you alright?" 

"Alright?! Fuck, are you kidding?" 

But Perceptor saw past his deflecting, his humour, and gently pulled away to lay beside Brainstorm, running a hand down along his back as he gave him a worried look. 

"I know that I hurt you…" 

"I can take more than a bite."

"I don't mean… that." 

Understanding where this conversation was going, Brainstorm shrugged as he lay his head onto his arms and closed his eyes. 

"S'fine." 

With a heavy hearted sigh, Perceptor realised it was time he owned up. Whilst Brainstorm had happily stripped off his entire ensemble, the dark haired man had merely inched down his waistbands, hoping that his lover would assume he was just eager but the truth was much darker. 

Sitting himself up, Perceptor started his tale and unbuttoned his shirt slowly.

“I know that… that I felt as though we were drifting apart and I ended things with us rather suddenly but… I was worried that perhaps if you followed me you would get hurt. Unfortunately, life had that in store for me instead…”

With his last few words, he slipped his shirt from his shoulders and twisted a little so Brainstorm could see. He lifted himself up, brow knitted in confusion and when he saw the gaping pink, nearly death sentence etched into Perceptor's chest, he felt a chill through his blood. 

"Oh holy fucking shit Percy… what the fuck happened?!" 

"...you are aware that I followed Kup after leaving Kimia, to ensure that after his _ episode,_ he wasn't going to relapse… I took for granted just quite how dangerous life alongside the Wreckers would be." He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose; his glasses had been carefully put away before their tryst, "...I wasn't supposed to go on this mission, Springer told me that it wasn't necessary but, I was a fool in some ways, and I followed. I was very lucky that Drift was there to make sure that I didn't shuffle off this mortal coil." 

Having propped himself onto his side as he listened, head supported by his fist, Brainstorm was listening open mouthed. He had nothing but swear words to fall back on for a moment.

"Fucking… Primus, that's… fuck." 

"Yes, well, if you believe in that sort of thing then I suppose there was some divine intervention," he cracked a small grin, "or I'm what Rodimus said, _ a lucky fucking bastard_." 

With a hard laugh, more than a little shocked, Brainstorm rolled back onto his back and stared at the ceiling trying to get his brain to connect with his mouth properly. 

"I mean… shit. So… is that why you're… _ hot _ now?"

"Oh Brainstorm, please-" 

"Nah nah nah," he was grinning wildly, "you just show up looking like this adonis and give me _oh_ _Brainstorm please_? It's the truth!" 

Now stone cold sober, all the taller man could do was shake his head and roll his eyes as he pulled his shirt back up over his shoulders. He felt resistance and was surprised to see that Brainstorm was looking at him intently, a small genuine smile upon his face whilst his hazel eyes that shimmered gold in some lights focused upon his face. 

“Don’t hide away, like I said, you’re fucking hot now.”

This time the _ oh Brainstorm _ came as the Vosian gently eased Perceptor to lay back down so he could take the reins, sitting himself fully down with a half gasp, half chuckle. He grinned lopsidedly then remembered something silly from college that they used to do.

Leaning forward so that their foreheads were close, he gently booped his lover with one finger. 

“You, me, simpatico.”

“...Brainstorm, for the love of Primus be quiet and ride me.”

With a silly giggle, he kissed him softly then happily, and noisily, obliged. 


	15. Shockwave/Soundwave domestic fluff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the war, human Shockwave and Soundwave fall into a comfortable, married life but amongst their many struggles, another hurdle creeps in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I going to write ALL of the humanformers couples I like?! 
> 
> Well, yes. 
> 
> Thanks to my conjunx to introducing me to this one 😘
> 
> Just a short drabble but I have more written if anyone wants it 😄 **trigger/content warning for pregnancy**

As unusual as the couple themselves were, their love was clear to anyone, even if it wasn't publicly shown or shouted from the rooftops. It was small loving glances when they thought the other wasn't looking and breakfast in bed on weekends and leaning against each other when they did their own individual projects, snuggled on the sofa whilst they waited for the unmistakable thump of Rumble and Frenzy crashing through the front door. It was Ravage taking an unusual shine to someone who wasn't in his pride and Laserbeak not squawking offendedly at Shockwave's presence. It was hushed whispers of love from broken voice boxes and soft touches of affection from wounded hands.

Little did they know that their life and love was about to change. 

Shockwave had risen early and made his way into the kitchen to make breakfast for his beloved, the teenage twins having crashed at their uncle Megatron's for the night. Even though they weren't biologically related to either men, both Shockwave and Megatron had treated Soundwave's offspring as their own, taking them under their wing and lending a hand in parenting however they could. Frenzy and Rumble loved having a big extended family too. 

It was unusual for Soundwave to spend much longer in bed after their companion had left and Shockwave was quietly concerned as he finished making breakfast and they had not appeared. Usually the slumbering spouse would seek the other in the kitchen and they would tumble back to bed, sometimes sans breakfast, and spend their morning lulled into comfort by each other's presence.

As he ascended the stairs, complete with breakfast tray, dread mounted with every step of the way until he opened the door whereupon the panic hit him like a freight train. Soundwave wasn't in bed. 

Hurriedly, he put the tray down, orange juice lapping over the side of the jug as he did, then checked the ensuite. His breath caught in his throat as he found his beloved. Missing, not taken as he had feared. 

"My love…" he rasped, "whatever is wrong?"

Soundwave themselves was curled up beside the bath, hunched under their husband's dressing gown they had managed to grab to ease the shivering. Strands of hair that were normally slicked back had fallen untidily around their face and they were a pale, pitiful state, gazing up with a lost expression on their face. 

Taking a seat, and his time as he knew he had to with someone with as many struggles as his partner had, Shockwave offered his metal prosthestic arm out and immediately Soundwave fell into him, seeking warmth and love and affection. 

"_S-sick._" They whispered, holding a trembling hand up, "..._and late _." 

For a moment, the long haired man was about to question what exactly they were late for when he realised his ignorance, snapping his mouth shut. 

"...how late exactly? A few days or… or…?" 

"_Weeks._" 

A much bigger tremble came from the small body beside him but this one was from fear instead of nausea. The past couldn't happen again, it wouldn't happen again, but the painful memories were etched so deeply, they were hard to gloss over. 

"I'm here, I'm always here." 

He soothed as best as he could with damaged vocal chords, his voice more of a grating rumble than a soothing lilt but the genuineness behind it and the small squeeze of the body beside him ensured his partner knew it was true. Soundwave was stricken but at least this time, they wouldn't be going on their journey alone. 


	16. Prowl/Sides

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this for a friend of mine a little while ago and whilst I was updating everything else, I thought I could share maybe a rarepair 😊 I don't often write either of this so forgive me if they're OOC, I tried!

It had been a long day, and the night was stretching out ahead looking like it was going to be even longer. Prowl had preparations to make and eventualities to plan for and maybe if he got the chance he'd grab some fuel, but right now he needed to concentrate on his work. He'd crammed his several datapads onto the poky desk he'd made fit in the armoury, the only place he ever really got any peace, and was hunched over one as he scribbled onto another. His door wings drooped tiredly and he could feel the strain on his optics. With a huff, he thought to himself, _ I can recharge when I'm cold and grey._

There was something bothering him more than the lack of fuel and rest though, and he couldn't push it from his processor any longer. Putting down his light pen for a moment, he patched through a call to Ratchet. 

"Prowl." 

"I just wanted to check in with the patients you admitted earlier." He cleared his intake, "...just to see if any of them will be available for the next time we head out." 

The medic sighed wearily, "Primus forbid anyone gets any rest around here, _including_ _me_. Ironhide had barely more than a nick in his paintwork, he walked straight back out, Arcee told me to go frag myself, Sideswipe is gone, Jazz-" 

"Wait, Sideswipe is _ gone_? What do you mean _ gone_?!" 

Even Prowl couldn't hide the concern in his vocals and he could feel the look he was getting from Ratchet at the other end of their comms, but he didn't care, the prickling of fear in his chest was too overwhelming.

"...I mean he's gone. I turned my back for a klik and he was gone. I had managed to fix that nasty hole in his side first at least. Wouldn't _ kill _ anyone to say thanks doc, for once." 

Prowl's plating flattened as relief washed through him. Disappeared not dead. That was fine, Sideswipe was fine. 

With a wry grin, Prowl rubbed at his face and lay back into his chair. 

"Yeah, thanks doc." 

"Smartaft. Jazz is fine too, by the way." 

"Of course he is."

Prowl ended the call and offlined his optics to compose himself a moment. It was fine, he didn't need to worry about that reckless, brave fool any longer, so why couldn't Sideswipe leave his processor?

Just as he was about to hunch back over his work, having erased all thoughts of the red mech, there was a snort from the doorway. 

"Nice to know you give a frag." 

Prowl had to play this off coolly. Sideswipe couldn't find out how he really felt, so he clamped his field tightly into himself and tried to relax his nerves. The mech who flung himself into battle, into the worst situations, wasn't about to be bested by some shiny, cocky speedster. 

"I like to check up on my _ subordinates_, especially when they make stupid mistakes." 

He picked his light pen back up and hitched his door wings, he didn't like anyone to see him vulnerable. 

Leaning into the doorframe, Sideswipe lifted an optic ridge and grinned. He wasn't sure who enjoyed their banter more, himself or Prowl, any excuse to exercise their sharp glossas at each other. 

"Stupid? Nah, I think you're supposed to say _ brave_." 

With a roll of his optics, Prowl carried on writing and reading, if he stopped, maybe his field would slip and that would be disastrous. Sideswipe would surely laugh or stop dropping by his office and then their whole relationship would be strained. If he could just keep himself together, it could carry on like it should, like it was supposed to. 

"Sideswipe, need I remind you that stepping in front of a loaded gun is not _ brave _ or _ courageous _ or _ fragging awesome_, it is _ stupid_. Especially when that gun is aimed at Ironhide, who could take more than just a single blaster shot." Prowl huffed. 

Sideswipe's expression dropped and he was glad that Prowl wasn't looking at him. It took him a moment to find his vocaliser again and all his will to inject some humour into his words. 

"Yeah, well, I'd rather it was me than any of you slaggers, 'cause then I get a chance to hang around the medbay and piss off Ratchet." 

"And that's the other thing, _ don't _ discharge yourself, Ratchet is grumpy enough without anyone taking their medical care into their own hands." 

With a nod, Sideswipe straightened himself and winced heavily as it pulled on his fresh welds. He'd escaped before Ratchet could dampen his pain receptors, he hated how groggy it left him feeling and he'd rather deal with the pain.

"Done with my dressing down? 'Cause that was pretty tame for you." 

Slightly irritated, Prowl growled and waved a hand dismissively. 

"Just go. I have a lot of work I need to do." 

It was quiet for a few moments and just as Prowl was about to risk a glance over his shoulder to see if he could finally relax again, there was a cube placed onto his desk. 

"Then you need to fuel. Doesn't take a genius to see that you're running on fumes. _ Again_." 

He wasn't sure if he was more irritated by Sideswipe's refusal to listen or touched that he'd actually thought about him, but he brushed the last thought away quickly. Sideswipe had a kind spark, he'd do that for anyone, right?

Prowl mumbled a thanks, expecting the red mech to leave again but instead he leaned his hip against the desk and nudged the cube forward. 

"Don't make me stay here and piss you off." 

"Why? Got better things to do?" 

Prowl picked up the cube, regretting his tone for a moment and taking a sip to stop himself from looking up. He suddenly felt a little better and his shoulders dropped a little from where he'd been holding them taut. Sideswipe huffed a laugh, folding his arms over his chest. 

"...not particularly." 

Trying not to choke on his next sip, Prowl flicked his gaze up briefly then back to his work. 

"Where's Sunstreaker?" 

"Oh," Sideswipe grinned again, "I caught Sun hanging outside of the medbay, hoping to use me as an excuse to go flirt with Ratch. I told him to go in anyway, was he snippy on your call?" 

"No more than his usual self… Sunstreaker and Ratchet? Really?" 

"Yeah? No stranger than like… Optimus and Megs… or… you and me, right?" 

Prowl had to put the cube down quickly before he spilled it all down himself, blinking rapidly at the words. 

"You and I? Sideswipe, don't be ridiculous." 

"More ridiculous than usual you mean." 

Pushing himself away from the desk, Sideswipe sighed and headed for the door. How much more obvious could he be? His feelings obviously weren't reciprocated and he was wasting his time.


End file.
